The Alchemist's Apprentice

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  The wards aren’t smart enough to figure out a solution on their own , I realised. They want a human to solve it for them .

  Cyanine caught my arm as we reached the lower levels. “What do we do if he’s got there first?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied. It was quite likely that Reginald would kill us on the spot. Jill and I were expendable, now he had the recipe. Cyanine might be spared, but she might wind up wishing for death anyway. “We have to get there first.”

  The wards grew stronger as we hurried down the corridors to the wardchamber. I could feel the magic pulsing through the air, making my hair want to stand on end. There were protections around the chamber that threatened to push us back, although they recognised Cyanine - and me - as members of the family. Jill, by contrast, looked queasier and queasier as she followed us down the corridor. The magics woven into the walls were trying to convince her to turn back. I could feel it plucking at Jill’s mind. She’d forget where she’d been almost as soon as she left.

  I might have been down here before , I thought, feeling a flicker of paranoia. It was unlikely - I’d been a scullery maid, not a wardcrafter - but it was impossible to be sure. And then the wards made me forget .

  The wards shifted, again, as we reached the edge of the wardchamber. I heard chanting from up ahead, echoing down the corridor. I peered into the chamber, half-expecting to be hexed or cursed on the spot. It was massive, far larger than I’d realised; the wardstone, a complex Device of Power, stood in the exact centre of the room. My head started to hurt as it caught and held my attention. The wardstone, bathed in an eerie red glow, seemed to exist in dimensions I couldn’t comprehend. It was the most powerful artefact I’d ever seen.

  Reginald was standing in front of the wardstone, his back to us. He was chanting loudly, steadily unlocking the protective spells surrounding the wardstone. I could feel them dissolving, one by one. The wardstone seemed to thrum with anticipation as Reginald stepped forward, lifting one hand to touch the glow. It was only a matter of time, I realised numbly, before he assumed control. The wardstone was waiting for him. I reached out myself, but it didn’t respond. Reginald was closer.

  “Reginald!” Cyanine shouted. “You ...”

  She threw a hex at his back. Reginald spun around, eyes wide with shock, then jumped to one side. The hex struck the wardstone and vanished. Cyanine let out a curse and threw another hex, which Reginald deflected with contemptuous ease. I wanted to tell her to be careful, but it was already too late. Cyanine was throwing hex after hex at him with more determination than common sense. And I didn’t have time to help her.

  “This is it,” Reginald snapped, loudly. I felt him shaping a spell, then aiming it at his little sister. “This is the end!”

  He cast the spell. Jill shoved Cyanine aside, taking the spell herself. There was a brilliant flash of light. I stared in horror. There was a large rat on the floor where Jill had been standing. Cyanine let out a gasp of horror - I wondered, suddenly, if Jill had been permanently turned into a rat - and cast a counterspell. It didn’t work.

  “You little brat,” Reginald spat out. “So lucky, just because you were born on the right side of the blanket ...”

  Cyanine screeched in anger and threw herself at him. Reginald lifted his magic, ready to stop her in her tracks. I couldn’t watch any longer. Instead, I turned and ran towards the wardstone, trying to ignore the scream behind me. Reginald had hurt his sister before, when he’d had to be careful. Now ... I yanked the spellbreaker out of my sleeve and thrust it forward as I ran. The protections shattered in front of me, allowing me to reach the wardstone. I shoved the spellbreaker into the Device of Power, but it merely shattered in my hand. I felt pieces of iron digging into my skin.

  I cursed - I’d hoped I could destroy the wardstone itself - and then shoved my hands into the glow. My back got warm, just for a second; it took me a moment to realise that Reginald had tried to curse me. My awareness expanded, rapidly, as my mind fell into the ward network. I was suddenly very aware of every last inch of the hall, from the servant quarters to Grand Dame Stephanie’s bedroom. I’d forgotten the old woman. I wished we’d thought to go to her for help. She might have been able to get a message out of the hall.

  A hand slapped my backside. I barely felt it. Strong arms tried to pull me out of the glow, but my hands refused to budge. The wards were holding me in place. My body was practically stone. There was a pause, then I felt someone force his way into the network. Reginald’s mind lashed through the wards, striking out at me. I felt his anger burning through the hall as he tried to drive me out of the network. It was all I could do to hold on. I’d entered first, but Reginald had far more experience.

  YOU TOOK THE POTION . Reginald’s voice boomed through my consciousness. His anger came with it, mingled with a grim determination to do whatever it took to win. DO YOU THINK YOU CAN BEAT ME ?

  I took the potion too , I thought back at him. I had to smile at the irony. There were two people battling for the fate of House Bolingbroke and neither one was truly part of the Great House. I’m just as much a member of the family as you are .

  Reginald’s anger surged. I gritted my teeth as he battered against me, flailing wildly as he tried to drive me out. It was hard, so hard, to hold on, yet ... I had the oddest sense that Reginald wasn’t truly focused on me. I held my defences in place as I reached out myself, trying to feel my way into the rest of the network. Reginald was holding me down with one hand - it was the only way to visualise the conflict - while trying to take control of the rest of the wards with the other. He’d actually split his awareness! I would have been impressed with his skill if I hadn’t known it would be turned against me. Master Travis had taught me how to multitask, but this was an order of magnitude more complex.

  I concentrated, splitting my attention as best as I could. It was harder, far harder, than it looked. Every time I thought about my split awareness ... it just snapped back to normal. It was all I could do to send pieces of myself through the network, competing with Reginald for control. If he took most of the network, he’d win by default. And he’d already come far too close to winning.

  I CAN GIVE YOU YOUR SHOP , Reginald thundered. I CAN GIVE YOU WHATEVER YOU WANT. MONEY. POWER. A HUSBAND. JUST LET ME HAVE MY FAMILY .

  I don’t trust you , I thought back. I could tell he was lying. There was something about the network that made it impossible to hide a lie. You’ll kill me if I let go .

  Reginald howled with incoherent anger and resumed his attack. I felt my mind stagger and nearly break under the force of the onslaught. Images sneaked into my awareness, images of horrors Reginald had committed in the past and would commit in the future. I had no idea if Cyanine was still alive or not - I tried not to think about the scream I’d heard - but she might be the lucky one, if she was dead. Reginald didn’t just want to take control of the family. He wanted to make the legitimate children suffer for daring to be legitimate.

  YOU WERE IN THE SAME PLACE TOO , Reginald sent. I realised, to my horror, that he’d been reading my thoughts. They’d been sneaking into the network as I tried to make myself the wardmaster. YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE. WE ARE THE SAME .

  I reached into my memories and summoned up everything I could recall of my wretched stepfather. The drunken shouting and screaming, the endless beatings ... the time I’d thought he’d cracked one of my ribs and sentenced me to death. My ribs ached in memory as I thrust the images at him, daring him to say that we were the same. We were both illegitimate - I conceded that point - but Reginald had been lucky. His father had brought him up in his household, taught him magic, given him more pocket money than I’d ever seen in my entire life ... and Reginald had repaid him by patricide.

  Your uncle offered you a chance to thrive , I thought at him. I didn’t try to hide my resentment. I would have sold my soul for an apprenticeship. I would have had one, if you hadn’t killed Master Travis. I would have been happy ...

  I felt Reginald recoil in sho
ck. My memories were horrifying, even to me. To him, indulged and pampered from birth, they had to feel a great deal worse. He’d never had to fear a drunken beating or a mugging or ... I shuddered, remembering my mother’s warnings about men. There were places in Water Shallot I’d never dared go. Reginald had never been vulnerable. I had .

  I COULD HAVE LOST EVERYTHING WHEN MY FATHER DIED , Reginald shouted at me, furiously. He ignored my memories of wandering hands at Bolingbroke Hall. AND YOU DARE TO SAY THAT I AM NOT VULNERABLE?

  You killed your father , I thought back, coldly. The memory - his memory - flashed across my mind. It had been a simple spell, too simple for the wards to notice, but it had worked. You could have left at any moment ...

  Reginald howled and resumed his battering. I could feel him shoving me back, steadily absorbing more and more of the network. I held on as best as I could, but I could feel my position starting to weaken. Reginald’s mind pressed down on mine, threatening to break my very sanity. I could feel his intentions now, read his thoughts as they brushed through the wards. Reginald didn’t intend to kill me. He had something far worse in mind.

  YOU ARE BEATEN , Reginald snapped. YOUR TIME IS OVER .

  No , I thought, as I felt the wards waver. Your time is over .

  Reginald’s shock echoed through the network. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

  I weakened the potion , I said. I knew he knew I was telling the truth. And now you’re losing your grip .

  He screamed - in anger, in terror, in helpless frustration - and launched a final attack on me, but it was already too late. The wardstone was pushing him out. My awareness, suddenly uncontested, started to expand again. I could feel the entire building as my thoughts filled the wards. It was mine. I allowed myself a tight smile, then searched for Reginald. He was kneeling by the wardstone, bawling like a baby. The wards held him firmly in place.

  This is for Master Travis , you bastard , I thought, vindictively. I gathered my mind. I wanted to savour the moment. And for everyone else you’ve hurt .

  And then I watched as the wards ripped him apart.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Cyanine told me what you did,” Wesley Bolingbroke said, two hours later. We stood together in the wardchamber, illuminated by the eerie red glow. Cyanine had fetched him, once we’d turned Jill back to normal. “But I would like an explanation.”

  “Reginald was planning to take over the house,” I said. It was hard to focus. If I hadn’t been drawing energy from the wards I would probably have collapsed after Reginald’s death. Thankfully, no one else had been killed. “He had a plan that nearly worked.”

  Wesley listened gravely, his face expressionless, as I outlined what Reginald had tried to do - and what I’d done to stop it. I told him about Master Travis and how he’d died, I told him - in vague terms - of how I’d managed to sneak into the hall, been unwillingly recruited to help Reginald finish the potion and how I’d deliberately weakened the potion Reginald had drunk.

  “But not the potion you drank,” Wesley said, when I’d finished. “You’re one of us now, aren’t you?”

  “Biologically, I’m Cyanine’s twin,” I said. I wasn’t entirely sure if the effect was permanent, but Master Travis’s notes suggested it was. My children, if I ever had children, wouldn’t be descended from my parents. I wondered if that meant they’d really - truly - be mine. “And yes, I control the wards.”

  Wesley’s lip twisted. The last time he’d seen me, I’d been nothing more than a personal maid. He could have ordered me to do anything, secure in the knowledge I would have to obey or be dismissed without character. Now ... now I was, technically, his superior. I ruled Bolingbroke Hall. I might not be the Matriarch of the family, and my ability to threaten people outside the hall was limited, but I could certainly ensure they never returned to their home.

  “Yes. You do. You’re a usurper.” His face darkened. “But you’re not invulnerable.”

  “I know,” I said. Bolingbroke Hall was far from invulnerable. Reginald had proven that beyond all doubt. “I want to bargain.”

  I took a breath. “Your family did me a great deal of harm. Reginald ...”

  “Reginald was my brother’s bastard son,” Wesley said. “We are not responsible for his actions ...”

  “But you owe me for saving you,” I pointed out. “And while I don’t want to keep the hall, let alone my command of the wards, I do want some things from you in exchange for my service.”

  Wesley let out a heavy sigh. “What do you want?”

  I smiled. I’d been a shopgirl. I’d bargained with customers. And Wesley was telling me, whether he knew it or not, that he didn’t want to haggle. He’d give me whatever I wanted, within reason. And my demands were very reasonable indeed.

  “First, I want a new apothecary - somewhere in South Shallot - to make up for the one Reginald destroyed,” I said. “Second, I want you to arrange an apprenticeship for me with a reputable Potions Master - again, somewhere in Shallot. I also want access to your library if there are books I cannot obtain elsewhere. Third, I want you to clear my name with the Civil Guard and Kingsmen. Fourth - and finally - I want ten thousand golds as compensation for your family’s actions.”

  “Reginald was not our fault,” Wesley said.

  I shot him a cold stare. “I’m not just talking about Reginald ,” I said. Ten thousand golds wasn’t that much, compared to the Bolingbroke fortune, but it would suffice. I had a shop to stock. “Do you know how many times I had my bottom pinched by your relatives?”

  Wesley looked as if he didn’t know what to say. “Fine,” he said, tiredly. “Is that all?”

  “More or less,” I said. I did intend to try to convince Jill to work for me - she’d make a great shopgirl - but that was between her and me. “I think they’re quite reasonable demands.”

  “Quite,” Wesley agreed. “And what do we get in return?”

  I met his eyes. “First, I will hand the wards over to a candidate of your choice,” I said, firmly. I had no idea who that would be - Cyanine was too young to carry the wards, although she would make a good Matriarch - but that wasn’t my problem. The family council would have to make that decision. “I will, of course, take a few basic precautions to ensure that you can’t simply turn on me, the moment I surrender the wards, but otherwise ... the house will be yours again.”

  Wesley’s lips twisted. “We are an honourable family.”

  I looked back at him. “You may treat your fellow aristocrats with honour,” I said, although I was fairly certain that wasn’t true. There was more backbiting and backstabbing in Bolingbroke Hall than Water Shallot. “But would you treat a serving girl the same way?”

  “We will offer oaths,” Wesley said, looking as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “What else do we get?”

  “I will do everything in my power to ensure that the recipe for Reginald’s potion doesn’t go any further,” I said. “I won’t share it with anyone. Nor will I discuss what actually happened in Bolingbroke Hall, as long as you keep your side of the bargain. The potion will never be used again.”

  “Until someone else invents it,” Wesley said. “You’re not offering us very much.”

  I shrugged, saying nothing. I was letting him off lightly and he knew it. The wards were mine as long as I was alive. There were people who would demand a great deal more in exchange for surrendering the wards. He knew that too. My demands wouldn’t consume more than a tiny fraction of the Great House’s wealth. They would probably have given me a great deal more if I’d asked. But Master Travis had warned me not to push a bargaining position too far. If I gave them reason to resent it, they would turn on me the moment they thought they could get away with it. Better to have them grateful than resentful.

  “On behalf of the family, I accept,” Wesley said. “When can we take over the wards?”

  I hid my amusement. “Tomorrow,” I said. I’d expected Wesley to have to consult with his fellows, but ... he could pay me himself out of pocket chang
e if the council disowned his decision. I wondered how that would play out, then decided it wasn’t my problem. “I’m going back to my bedroom for a good night’s sleep. I’ll give you the wards tomorrow.”