Eyes of the Alchemist

by Janet Woods

  A subject he had no intention of discussing with her. “Her attractions go further than her innocence. Tiana has many talents.”

  “There’s a matter I wished to bring to acquaint you with. Rumors abound that the girl has special healing powers. The talk needs to be stopped in case she attracts a following,”

  “The rumor is true. I’ve seen her heal with my own eyes, and so have my troopers.” He smiled as his eyes narrowed in on her. “As for attracting a following . . . I think she’ll need all the friends she can find, for enemies she seems to have plenty of.”

  Rowena’s mouth flattened into a spiteful line. “The healing powers are magical tricks. She has you all moonstruck.”

  The latter remark wasn’t too far from the truth if he was to be honest with himself, Kavan mused. Yet it would not be wise to admit that to his mother. “You belittle my intelligence if you imagine me so easily taken in. I’m the son of Arcus.”

  “Intelligence, pah! Tiana takes after her mother. It’s said that the goddess Lynx used her wiles to entrap her own brother, and caused the downfall of Bel –”

  His eyes sharpened and her eyes shifted away from him. She was casual, too casual. “I refer to Bannigren, your esteemed stepfather, of course. He was slain by the followers of Beltane.”

  A slip of the tongue? Kavan’s gaze hardened on her face, searching it for signs of deceit or guilt. A few tix before she’d arrived he’d received some disturbing information about the followers – a note slipped under the door. This was too much of a coincidence. Surely Rowena could not be a follower of Beltane and working against him, as the note had suggested? “I have the feeling that’s not what you were about to say.”

  She would not look at him, but rose in a sudden flurry of movement, unable to conceal her disquiet. The contempt in her voice was almost venomous. “What son dares to probe his mother’s private thoughts or accuse her of treason? You’re no good company, Kavan, and I promised to drop in on Pannis.”

  Treason? The fact that she used the word served to heighten his suspicion. He toyed with the idea of having her discreetly investigated, then dismissed it. Rowena was his mother, why would she work against him? “I bid you good day then,” he said with as much politeness as he could muster.

  Rowena’s departure brought only relief. She’d been harsh in her raising of him and they’d never been close. Her autocracy annoyed him too. Marriage to his stepfather had elevated her socially, and her assumed superiority was irritating. When Tiana joined him he’d encourage . . . ? No, he’d insist Rowena must establish a household outside the manor, otherwise she’d continue to try and dominate his life.

  Striding to the telescope he trained it on the high place. No sign of Tiana yet. She must have ventured into the forest.

  He passed his hand over a smooth, round crystal, bringing it to life. “Where’s Tiana?” he said when an image appeared.

  “They are bringing her into camp, Lord.”

  “For what reason?”

  “We underestimated the Pitilan. Many of us are suffering from its venom and she has the antidote.”

  Kavan sucked in a shocked breath. “I’ll come. She might need persuading.”

  “She’s under paralysis.”

  “You’ve darted her?” He chuckled; he couldn’t help himself. “Then I’ll definitely come. She’ll be as mad as a nest of stingers when she comes out of it.”

  The watcher grimaced. “Excuse me for saying so, Lord but I do not think your presence would be of benefit. She seems unwilling to respond to your truths or your wisdom, thus far.”

  It was Kavan’s turn to grimace. Tiana obviously didn’t recognize either for what they were. She possessed a need to pit her wits against his, to challenge his word as though she thought she was equal to him in stature and had the right. His subconscious released a stray truth. She did have the right, and on Truarc she was certainly equal in social stature.

  Enlightened, he chuckled. “Summon the alchemist then. He seems to have made a lasting impression on her.”

  “Considering she’s a disciple of his teachings that might be of more help. Tiana has a kind heart despite her independent nature, and a willingness to help others in the face of adversity. She’s no coward and will make you a perfect life mate if you can but win her affection.”

  “Not if, but when,” Kavan said, and was uplifted by his conviction that the watchers had given him the key to her heart.

  But first, there were the followers of Beltane to contend with. An anonymous message had informed him of a public demonstration of the followers’ power in the market place. He must talk to Pannis, see if he’d found out who’d delivered the message and what precautions had been taken. He might even consult him about Rowena. He’d allow no one to come between him and the successful completion of his quest, not even his mother.

  It was not Kavan’s usual practice to venture from his quarters at this hour of day. For some reason known only to fate, instead of his usual direct route he decided to take a roundabout one. The volume of people moving freely about the corridors surprised him. What business did they all have in the manor?

  “You,” he said to a shabby-looking beggar sitting in a corner. “What’s your business?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  His personal bodyguard slid his sword from his scabbard and would have sliced the man’s head off if Kavan hadn’t placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Still your arm, Torma, the beggar is blind.”

  “I’m not a beggar,” the man said bitterly. “I used to be the court silversmith before I lost my sight, and I can still fashion the metal with more skill than most sighted smiths. All I need is payment of my court credits to barter with. If I appear to be beggared it’s because I’ve been waiting too long a time, so long in fact that I’ve become part of the building and nobody sees me.”

  “I see you.”

  “You do not usually walk these corridors so I’m fresh to your eyes.”

  Kavan exchanged a glance with Torma. “Who oversees the charity lists?”

  “Rowena.”

  Torma’s knuckles tightened on the hilt of his sword when the man spat at his feet. “It’s not charity I’m after, only the credits due to me from the silver I wrought for the manor. With that I can start a school to train apprentices in the art of the silversmith and support myself and my daughter. Rowena would deny me that.”

  Kavan hunkered down on his heels in front of the silversmith. “Why would Rowena deny you your due?”

  “That, my lips dare not utter, for the spies of Beltane are everywhere and some of those in positions of power. Already Zorca, the nephew of Pannis has been given my position. He is an upstart and a bad tradesman, yet he lords it over the workshop I built with my own hands.” The man spat again, away from them, this time. “This wouldn’t have happened if the old lord was still in power, may Assinti bless Bannigren’s soul.”

  Kavan shot Torma a warning look when he sucked in a scandalized breath. “You should appeal through the grievance court.”

  “Zorca has threatened to send my daughter to work in the house of pleasure if I do, and she only thirteen seasons. Lord Kavan spent too much time chasing the Truarc maid when he should have been here, ruling over his people.”

  The old man spoke the truth. Kavan knew he was learning some hard lessons today. He should not have neglected his people and should have taken more interest in the administration of his realm. Tiana would still have been his. Sick at heart, he placed his hand over the old man’s. It was scarred from years of working with hot metal. “How do you know I’m not a spy?”

  “You have neither the word nor the touch,” the other said bitterly.

  “Would you become the eyes and ears of Kavan in the manor corridors?”

  The man became very still. “Can a blind man see, or write secretive missives to slip under doors?”

  So this was the source of the note. Kavan’s smile went unnoticed by the man. “You see more than most. I’m not without
influence, and in return I’ll make sure your credits are restored and your daughter safe. His hand closed around the other’s in a friendly gesture. “Come, let us shake on it. What’s your name, silversmith?”

  “I’m called Benlogan.” The smith’s fingertips touched on the rings Kavan wore. He fingered them one by one, then sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. “I made these rings for the old lord. One is the seal of the true ruler, and this . . . ?” His voice filled with awe. “This stone was bane’s own trouble to mount. It contains a magnetic core which makes it twist as if it had a life of its own. I can feel its power now, as if it’s striving to be free of restraint. This stone is not in its correct element.”

  “I know, but its power is captured for now, and that was all my stepfather asked of you.”

  Benlogan pressed his forehead against Kavan’s hand. “Forgive me. Lord, I spoke out of turn.”

  “Your words were honest and were released from the anger in your heart. I can recognize the difference between honesty and disloyalty. It won’t do to raise the suspicions of your adversary, but in return for your help I might be able to get your daughter to a place of safety.”

  “My sister will gladly give the girl shelter,” Torma said, “but she lives nearly half a day’s journey to the north. I could tell Zorca you have ordered her to become a servant. Zorca is sly, but a coward of the lowest degree. You only have to order it, Sire, and I’ll help him spill his guts in more ways than one.”

  The fierce expression on Torma’s face filled Kavan with pride. He punched him affectionately on the shoulder. “I do not order it. Get the girl to safety and do it now. I go to confront my security chief.”

  “You’re unguarded, Lord. At least wait until another of us can be summoned to cover your back.”

  “What can Pannis do if I keep my back turned away from him? He’s an old man.”

  “May Assinti be your guide” Benlogan murmured as he strode away.

  * * * *

  At the door to the chamber Pannis occupied, two security guards lounged. In their belts they wore stunners, an ancient weapon Kavan had ordered to be destroyed. He frowned when they gazed in consternation at him. As they straightened up one held out an arm to bar him. “Lord Kavan. Pannis is not expecting you? If you’ll allow me, I’ll announce you.”

  Torma would have sliced the man’s arm off, Kavan thought as he pushed him aside. “Lord Kavan needs no appointment or announcement.”

  The people in the room had not yet had time to rise despite the guard’s warning. They all stared at him in shock and the incantation they’d been chanting died on their lips. Rowena had a faint, but haughty smile on her face. Vandrew, his chief adviser looked guilty but Pannis, head of security merely shrugged. “We were not expecting company.”

  “That’s obvious.” The unexpected scene caused Kavan’s stomach to roil. His intuition had been right about his mother, but Vandrew, the most trusted of his advisers was a traitor! His fingers closed around his sword hilt as he fought to keep his fury under control. This would test his leadership to the limit, for he could show no favor in his punishment of them.

  The chamber was thick with the smoke from incense burners, the overlying smell that of the rare, mind-altering weed used to alleviate pain by the physicians. As he breathed in the fumes his fury ebbed away, replaced by uncertainty. He fought the lassitude the smoke was bringing to his brain . . . perhaps it was an innocent gathering he’d interrupted . . . perhaps he was mistaken.

  He was not mistaken. The evidence was there in front of him. Between them pulsed something he’d been searching for, a glowing, red stone. When his mind fully assimilated the significance of it his senses reeled. “You, the most trusted of my subjects follow Beltane?”

  “As you see,” Pannis said evenly.

  “My Lord,” Vandrew cut in, and his eyes held terror. “It’s not our intention to depose you, just help you see the true path.”

  “My true path was revealed to me by my stepfather, you were there Vandrew. You saw the revelation with your own eyes, saw the prophecy appear on the parchment before it was burned over the sacred flame and the great library was sealed.”

  “It was a trick. The prophecy must have been written with chemicals that appeared on the parchment when heated. I believe Bannigren found the recipe for invisible writing in one of the alchemist’s books.”

  “My stepfather couldn’t read the words in the books, let alone write them. You’re a traitor, Vandrew, the penalty for which is death for you and your issue.”

  Vandrew paled and began to tremble with the palsy of fear. “It was Pannis and Rowena who killed your stepfather, not I.”

  He flicked his mother and Pannis a look of loathing.

  Vandrew fell to his knees. “Be merciful, Lord. Spare my son. Javros is the pride of my heart and of your command. He knows naught of the sin of his father. And what of the infant in my woman’s womb? Would you kill an unborn babe and leave the mother to grieve?”

  Kavan’s heart felt like stone at the thought of doing either. “It was you who fashioned the law of treachery Vandrew. Would you change it to your own good, now?”

  Vandrew hung his head. “To my everlasting shame, yes Lord.”

  A wry smile played about Kavan’s mouth. A pity Tiana was not present. She’d gaze with favor upon any mercy he’d show them. “Then it shall be done.”

  Vandrew’s head jerked up, his eyes unbelieving.

  Rowena snorted. “The Truarc maid has softened your brain. What do you have in mind for your beloved mother, Lord of my womb?”

  “As yours is the greater treachery, for you plotted against your son as well as your Lord, banishment to the Isle of Christos. I never want to see you again.”

  Horror twisted her face. “Christos is inhabited by an order of female mutes who embrace some ancient religion and toil in the fields all day.”

  “You’ll take nothing but the clothes you wear, and you will serve them for the rest of your days. His glance fell on Pannis and he found it hard not to sneer. “Do your repent your actions?”

  Pannis laughed. “My loyalties lie with Beltane. Today I intend to stand in the market place and summon one of Beltane’s war demons to demonstrate his power.”

  Kavan drew his sword. “You’ll not live to do so. Your transgression is unpardonable, for you were in a position of trust and betrayed the father as well as the son.”

  “I could have killed either of you at any time,” Pannis said blandly, “I spared your life because Rowena convinced me you could be converted. Before you attempt to slice off my head, remember it’s full of information.” He carefully examined his fingernails. “Without me, you’ll never know who you can trust.”

  Kavan was finding it hard to keep his mind focused. He shook his head to clear his brain of the effects of the smoke. That information could be just as easily obtained from Vandrew. But would Pannis have taken the dithering Vandrew into his confidence? Kavan doubted it. His glance fell on the fire stone. He must secure that before he did anything else. “Pass the stone to me.”

  “Never,” Rowena screamed and scrambled across the floor towards it. “It’s mine, given to me by your sire as payment for his rape of me.” She grabbed up the stone and held it against her chest.

  “Give it to me, Rowena. Now.”

  “Never.” Her eyes gleamed with malice. “Arcus invaded my body against my will, and afterwards, no other infant would take root in my womb. You’re the disease I was forced to bear. Because of my barrenness your stepfather lost the regard he once held for me. Arcus told him to take you unto him as a true son and guide you to the prophecy. You supplanted me in his heart, even though he knew I loathed you.”

  Kavan’s gorge began to rise. “Give me the fire stone, Rowena. It would have been handed to you for the good of our people and my task is to make sure the prophecy is fulfilled.”

  “When Beltane has promised me eternal life in return for it. Don’t be a fool.” Her glance shifted to beyond his
shoulder and she inclined her head.

  He’d hardly drawn his sword and begun to turn when a bolt of lightning exploded against the side of his head.

  * * * *

  The short duration of paralysis had been made good use of by the watchers. Fully functional and now aware of the reasoning behind her capture, Tiana worked like a demon to administer the Pitilan antidote.

  Normally, it was given by mouth, but as advised by the alchemist, scratched into the skin of these small people at quarter-strength it worked amazingly quickly.

  “That was a good notion of yours,” she said to the alchemist when the last watcher was treated. She began applying healing salve to the less seriously wounded.

  The alchemist slid her a smile. “An ancient idea from a time when prevention of disease was considered necessary. Remarkably effective, too effective at a time when population control was also necessary, but ignored. Any world will fail if the life on it outstrips its resources.”

  “Like Truarc?”

  He looked sideways at her. “The Truarc have yet to learn that what is taken must be replaced.”

  “There’s not much water on Truarc to help plants grow.”

  “Ask yourself why, then.”

  She sighed, not desirous of engaging in a debate with one so learned. “We don’t all have the wisdom of longevity ancient of ancients, nor the mind to calculate a dozen theories at once.”

  He leaned on his stick and watched her draw the edges of a wound together with her fingers. A moment later the patient was gazing with awe at a thin scar. A chorus of amazed murmurs ran through the watchers and they all crowded around to watch the healing of the next patient, whose leg was almost torn from his body. The pulse of her patient quickened under her finger when she touched him.

  “Don’t be frightened,” she murmured and closed her eyes. She’d just expended a great deal of energy imagining the leg whole again when a cheer rang out. Her eyelids shot open in annoyance.

  The alchemist cackled. “Mmmm, not bad, but I could have done it faster myself. ”