Scarlet From Gold (Book 3)

by Jeffrey Quyle

  Marco smiled, and she rolled her eyes in indignation, then turned back to the stove and dished out three bowls of stew, and carried them to the table. She went to the counter for spoons, then returned and sat down.

  The three of them sat and ate and talked, and Teresa’s poisoning never came up as a topic of discussion. Marco asked about old acquaintances, and the others asked him questions about his travels. Algornia opened a bottle of wine that the three shared, and the conversation was friendly until long after sunset, when Teresa placed their dishes in the sink, and Marco excused himself to go to bed.

  That night he lay in the guest room at Algornia’s home, and thought. Two years earlier he would have thought he had reached the greatest success possible if he had been allowed to eat dinner with Algornia and Teresa, then sleep in the guest room. Now, it was a pleasant reminder of simpler time.

  When morning came, Marco arose early, and went for a stroll around the neighborhood, before the patrol was out, before the fashionable nobility was awake and out. He walked and observed in the hour when cooks were at markets buying fresh fish and produce, when maids were on their way to homes they needed to clean, when stable boys were dumping wheelbarrows of manure in the wagons that passed through the city to haul the muck away. It was an orderly, peaceful existence, and Marco fretted that it might disappear if he failed to carry out the great duties that Lady Iasco had assigned to him. He wondered how Athens had suffered after war and conquest had descended upon that great city, and it was in such a thoughtful mood that he returned to Algornia’s shop to find the master already stirring about the house, a handful of fresh cherries for breakfast in his hand. He wore his gown with the symbols and equations that were embroidered upon it, making him look more powerful and mystical in appearance.

  “Have some cherries, Marco,” Algornia picked up a full bowl of the fruit and held it towards Marco. “They’re in the prime of their season, and these are particularly flavorful.”

  Marco recollected that Algornia had always shown a seasonal obsession with cherries every summer when they had appeared in the market. Marco accepted the offer of the fruit, and grabbed a generous handful from the bowl.

  “Ready to go, young sorcerer?” Algornia asked. “Let’s go see the Doge. He doesn’t like to drag things out; you’ll have a quick decision from him once you present your request.”

  Together they left the shop and walked through the streets of the city, meeting a few other alchemists along the way, all wearing their Guild gowns as well. Marco thoughtfully ate his cherries slowly, one by one, as they traveled.

  “Will you give us a demonstration of your abilities?” one of the alchemists asked Marco.

  “Let the boy wait until we’re all gathered together so he can show us all at once,” Algornia interjected. “Let’s have a little drama at the palace, shall we?”

  Marco walked along, suddenly concerned to think that he had to put on some exhibition of power; he had no idea of what in particular to do that would make the best impression. He could erect the dome of energy that protected him from all attacks, but to do so might remind the city of Iago, the sorcerer who had been a part of the Corsair attack, and he didn’t want to be associated with that. He could make his hand glow, but that seemed too simple. He could perhaps shoot a beam of light up into the sky, something that would be visible throughout the city, without seeming threatening or destructive, but without being useful either.

  His mind dwelt on the question of what to do, what exhibition of power to offer to the alchemists and the palace observers, and before he knew it, he was entering the Great Square, where the Doge’s palace took up one entire side, the Central Canal ran along the opposite side, while the cathedral occupied the third side and grand mansions took up the prestigious spots that sat along the fourth side of the square.

  A surprising number of people were milling about in the square, drawn by the rumor that a sorcerer was going to appear and seek admission. There were additional alchemists waiting at the gate, and others arriving from other directions, so that by the time Marco and Algornia and their escorts joined the others, a surprising three score men in gowns were assembled to lend credibility to Marco’s appearance.

  “Thank you master,” Marco said humbly, turning to Algornia. “You have summoned every possible alchemist in the nation it seems.”

  “We have. Your mission seems of the paramount importance, and we did not want to waste any opportunity to assist you,” Algornia said.

  “Marco!” another voice called, and Sty, the alchemist who had transformed Pesino and Cassius from merfolks to humans, bustled over to join their conversation.

  “Master Sty!” Marco was pleased to see the man there, one who was well-known among the nobility and upper classes.

  “So tell me, how did our transformations work?” Sty immediately asked, professionally interested in knowing how his potions had performed.

  “They did well,” Marco assured him. “In fact, we even gave a dose to a minotaur, and turned him into a human as well.”

  Sty looked at Marco appraisingly. “I think you’re having fun at my expense,” he said doubtfully.

  “No it’s true!’ Marco insisted. “And it was a much-needed way to do a favor for the minotaur when we needed his assistance in the underworld.

  “Let me ask you, if you can answer, in the process of their transformations, why did the merfolks and the minotaur first change completely into their other form before they became completely human?” Marco asked. The question had puzzled him from the first time he had seen Pesino convert to humanity.

  “It’s quite a dramatic show, isn’t it?” Sty said enthusiastically. “I designed that in to build the magic of the event; they didn’t necessarily have to go through that phase, but I thought folks would remember it. It apparently worked, since you’re asking about it, eh?” he commented.

  Marco gave a polite smile. He never would have thought to make his work be a show, a form of entertainment, but then he had never based his professional services on the whims and fancies of the nobility, people who bought potions and concoctions as items they wanted but did not need; Marco’s work with alchemy, and sorcery, had been based on necessity – dire at times – during his short career so far.

  He had a thought, and turned to look at the gates of the palace. Whatever he was about to do was something that would demonstrate his powers to the highest of the noble class, so like Sty, he needed to do something that was flashy and highly visible. Yet he wanted to demonstrate that he was not an evil sorcerer, but one who could do good works. His imminent display of power needed to be memorably useful, he decided. He ate another cherry, then discreetly spit the stone out on the pavement of the square. He still had several cherries left, but he judged he had time to eat them and ponder his performance before his demonstration would begin.

  “We’re all gathered,” Algornia said just then. “There’s no one else who’s going to come. You’re free to get on with your event.”

  Marco smiled at his former master, then stepped away from him and walked out in front of the assembly of men in their impressive gowns. He had an audience of people in a wide and deep gathering of spectators circled around and behind the alchemists. There were squads of Guard members on either side of him as well, some in tense poses, ready to spring into action at the first sign of any untoward action by him. And behind him were the walls of the palace, rising to a medium height, beyond which the gleaming and ornate palace itself was fully visible, a symbol of the wealth and power of the Lion City. The windows of the palace framed the faces of many watchers, and the gate was crowded with observers as well. He ate two more cherries, the last two he had, and tossed the pits off to the side. As he released the two seeds, he suddenly realized what he was going to do.

  He had something in mind, something that he hoped was suitably impressive, yet not threatening, to make the Doge take his request seriously.

  “Thank you all for coming to support me,” Marco spoke l
oudly. His voice broke as he said ‘me’, and a few alchemists smiled. Marco took a deep breath, aware that he had to make a good impression on behalf of Lady Iasco and her grand plan.

  “I will soon enter the Doge’s Palace to pass along a request from the Lady Iasco, the head priestess of the Cult of Ophiuchus. The request is serious, and it is in response to a dire threat.

  “The Lion City is a wonderful city, one of the many great cities of the old empire, along with Barcelon, Canalport, Boheme, Nappanee and all the other cities,” Marco began. He paused and closed his eyes, as he focused his hand’s energy to do the particular activity he pictured, the one that would be different from anything he had done before. He tried to imagine all the things he wanted the energy to do, then he raised his hand and he released the power, broadcasting it across the square.

  “Let there be cherry trees that grow here in the square, as symbols of the growth and beauty of the cities of the old empire,” he called out, and then his eyes lost their focus as he willed the power to continue to leave his hand and travel across the square, seeking out the many cherry seeds he had spit out during his stroll across the square.

  In a dozen locations there were gasps and shouts, as small, dark seeds suddenly sprouted up, turning into twigs, then seedlings, then saplings, as in a matter of seconds, the seeds became trees, following a trail across the square that led directly to where Marco stood, where a small grove of many trees were rising. Marco focused on the trees until they were all thirty feet tall, growing green and round and leafy, their roots spread across and digging down through the granite paving stones of the square.

  “These trees are like the cities I mentioned, and they can become even more beautiful if we all work together to protect one another,” Marco said. He looked around at the trees, at the looks of awe on the faces of many of the alchemists he saw, and then he exerted the power of his hand once again, and suddenly each tree seemingly exploded into clouds of white and pink blossoms, as flowers appeared at the ends of all the branches.

  The crowd collectively gasped in appreciation, bringing a gentle smile to Marco’s face.

  “But one city has been attacked, and conquered by the forces of evil,” he told his listeners. He pointed at the tree closest to his location, and the blooms on the tree shed their petals, then the leaves on the branches darkened and curled, and most of them fell to the ground, leaving a damaged, ugly outline of a dying tree standing next to its healthy companions.

  “If we do not work together to save that tree, the contagion, the evil, is going to spread, and all of us are going to suffer. And that is what I am going to speak to the Doge about today, to ask that the Lion City join with the other nations of our society to defeat the evil of the Docleatae, to defeat the army of King Moraca. We can set Athens free, and we can work together to keep all our nations free of the evil, so that,” he paused, and focused on the damaged tree once again. He willed the sorcery of his hand to restore health to the tree, and found that as he continued to use his power in the same continual way on the trees, the task became easier.

  “We can work together so that evil will not reign over the Lion City, and death will not stalk you through the streets of your city,” he finished, as the diseased cherry tree finished its resurrection by blooming once again into a cloud of pink and white.

  “So watch and listen to your Doge, and if he makes the proper decision to fight on behalf of the freedom of others,” Marco was feeling tired – he could tell that he had used the power of his hand for great purpose for an extended period, “if he makes the right decision, you all will harvest the fruits of his wisdom.” And with that, Marco strained to send out one last wave of his energy, so that the flowers dropped off, and bright red cherries immediately swelled to ripened maturity upon all the trees.

  There was profound silence, as Marco closed his eyes and deeply inhaled. Cheers and clapping burst into the silence, making Marco open his eyes in time to see a surrounding crowd of alchemist charge at him, mobbing him with congratulations and accolades.

  “That was extraordinary, Marco,” Algornia strained to be heard over the thundering applause that surrounded them. “I had no idea you were so profound, I apologize for admitting.”

  “I had no idea either,” Marco said truthfully. He hadn’t ever thought he could do something so theatrical and meaningful, let alone do it in such a public setting.

  “Should we go into the Doge’s palace now?” he asked.

  “There will never be a better time,” Algornia said. He raised his hand over his head and pointed at the gate, sending the mass of alchemists surging towards the gates of the palace, while they jostled to position Marco at the head of their phalanx.

  The movement stopped when they reached the squad of Palace Guards who stood as a human chain across the opening. The Palace Guards were a different organization from the Guards of the city; they wore armor, and wore it in a way that projected an image of military competence.

  “This is the good sorcerer Marco, who seeks to address the Doge,” Master Sty spoke up to introduce Marco.

  “We have a pretty good idea who he is,” the ranking Guard said in a wry tone. “I’ve not yet received orders to allow him to enter the palace,” he held up his hand, a veteran who knew how to handle situations, as he heard rumbles of indignation start to rise, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if a note isn’t on its way down here within five minutes to invite him to an audience.”

  Marco stood in place, assuaged by the Guard’s comfortable manner and words. A minute later there was a disturbance to his right, and moments later a quartet of women, all dressed in white, appeared, passing through the crowd in the plaza as easily as a knife cutting through butter. Marco watched as the alchemists and others hurriedly scrambled out of the way.

  “Who is that?” Marco asked Algornia.

  “I am the Holy Priestess Laris, young man,” the woman in the middle of the group spoke to Marco in passing, as the guards at the gate automatically moved aside to allow her and her escort to enter the palace grounds immediately. She had teeth that were as white as any that Marco could remember ever seeing, and her hair was deep black, framing her oval face as it was pulled into a bun atop her head.

  “Who is she?” Marco asked.

  “She is presumably your ally; she is the high priestess of the temple of Ophiuchus in the Lion City. Have you never met her before?” Algornia answered.

  “No, I’ve never been to the temple in the Lion City before,” Marco answered. “Is she always allowed to immediately enter the palace?”

  “For the past few nights she has been granted immediate and unquestioned access to the Palace and the Doge,” the Guard at the gate unexpectedly spoke up, in a neutral tone of voice that conveyed disapproval.

  Ten minutes later, a messenger came to speak to the officer who presided over the squad at the gate. The officer looked quizzically at the messenger, who shrugged, then left. The officer stood still for a moment, then walked forward to stand among the guards at the entrance.

  “The Doge will receive no visitors today. You all are advised to disperse immediately,” he said, then he gave an order to the surprised-looking Palace Guard members, and they pulled the gates shut.

  “How can this be?” Algornia asked in astonishment. A buzz rippled through the crowd, rising in indignant tenor as word of Marco’s rejection spread through the plaza.

  “What should I do?” Marco asked, stunned by the inexplicable rejection.

  Sty looked at the crowd around them, growing loud in its indignation on Marco’s behalf. “You don’t want to be credited with starting a riot by arguing,” Sty advised.

  “Of course, you’re right,” Algornia agreed. “Tell them you will come back tomorrow Marco,” Algornia advised. “Tell the crowd and tell the guards, and then leave peacefully, so that no one gets hurt today.”

  “But what if the Doge just says ‘no’ tomorrow as well?” Marco asked.

  The crowd began to move forward,
squeezing Marco closer to the gate.

  “We’ll figure that out later. Call the crowd off now,” Sty advised urgently.

  “Listen! Listen to me!” Marco called out. He cupped his hands around his mouth, and seemed to use his right hand’s power to project his voice unnaturally far.

  “I will listen to the Doge today. I am going to leave the palace and the plaza, and I ask you to do the same as well. We will return tomorrow, and seek to speak with the Doge. Now that he has seen my demonstration, he can reflect on the wisdom of listening to the Lady Iasco’s emissary,” Marco broadcast his words, and within moments the crowd pressure seemed to ease.

  “Let’s go back to your shop, shall we?” Marco said to Algornia.

  “Are all of us going to return tomorrow?” Sty asked Algornia.

  “No, there’s no reason for all of us to attend tomorrow. The Doge has seen us, and plenty of other people will be here tomorrow, as the rumors spread about Marco’s forest,” Algornia replied. Then he and Marco turned and started working their way slowly through the crowd, as Sty spread the word among the alchemists.

  Marco and Algornia made slow progress as Marco was cheered along every step of the way through the plaza. Once they reached the streets the fans and supporters melted away, and the two had an uneventful walk back to Algornia’s shop.

  Marco spent the day inside the shop, helping Algornia prepare potions and items that had been ordered. Phillippe had finished his apprenticeship and left the shop, leaving Algornia with only the raw new apprentice, Boyd to do the work. With his supernatural memory and understanding of alchemy, Marco was able to fulfill numerous outstanding orders that earned him Algornia’s gratitude.

  He slept uneasily that night, worried about his failure to see the Doge, and doubting his own abilities to carry out Lady Iasco’s command to persuade the Doge to commit his forces to the battle for Athens. Marco finally rose from his bed well before dawn, and went for a walk in the summertime predawn coolness of the city streets.