The Apprentice's Path: The Alchemist #1

by Stacey Keystone

  "Those are my guesses of what the original could look like. I'm just guessing, you see. But a few lines here and there, they really look like some ancient Yllamese texts."

  "Text as magic? That's strange, isn't it? Magical patterns are usually drawn based on magical energy distribution."

  For a layman, the captain knew quite a bit of magic theory. Most people thought magic works by making weird gestures and making strange noises.

  "My guess is that it worked the opposite way. Magical patterns were drawn to mean a certain word and magical word, so they became pictograms that symbolized words."

  The captain nodded, leafing through the report, scanning all the pages. He seemed quite cheerful, as if the pitiful attempts I made were above his expectations. The contrast between grandpa's exceedingly high expectations and the captain just accepting anything I gave him, was quite unsettling.

  "Well, thanks to your report, and the extensive collection of literature," he said, leaning back on his chair, with the folder still open. "We might be able to interest the people in command of this project. We could even get some extra funding for another dig."

  "A dig?"

  "Yes, a dig in Forg island. We could go there in the summer.”

  "We, sir?" I asked.

  "Yes, Miss Bedwen, wouldn't you like to come to see the places you've written about in real life?"

  "I'd love to, sir, but I'm no archeologist."

  "No, Miss Bedwen, you're a much more valuable specialist than that. An expert in ancient magical alchemy."

  "But I just know what I read from those books, sir. Anybody who reads my reports will get to know as much as I do."

  Couldn't they hire a proper alchemist? Somebody who has more experience combining magical devices with alchemical ones, that is.

  The captain crossed his arms and looked at me seriously.

  "Miss Bedwen, have you thought about why we hired you, specifically, for this project?"

  That was a question I'd had and had reached one logical answer.

  "Because I'm cheap, sir?"

  Barely minimum wage, they were paying me, the cheap bastards. No proper alchemist will agree to a salary that low.

  "That also. But also because of the unique perspective you could bring, as a magical alchemist. There aren't many of those around."

  That's true. I'd checked how many of the graduates of alchemy from Ashford were dark arall and only found three.

  "What about the other three?" I asked. “And I’m sure there are others, in other universities.”

  "The other magical alchemists are already working on other, much more practical and important projects. You are the only one with the right background who's free. Which is why, when I saw your CV, I immediately created this project. I didn't even think it would be possible to recruit the right person for the job. And Ashford is quite unique in its high number of dark arall. Maybe because it’s so close to Caerland."

  If the project was created as a last-minute thing, that would explain why there wasn't much of a project plan.

  After having been rejected so many times, being wanted for a job felt good. But it was still quite weird.

  "Will I be able to work on this project until its completion then, sir?" I asked.

  If this project got the right funding, I could do wonders. And maybe get access to the much more secret archives.

  "Yes, Miss Bedwen, that's what I'd like," the captain said, sitting straight again. He then looked at the open report again. "These are just your guesses, right?" he then asked.

  "Yes, sir, just guesses. I'll need more time to see anything with more accuracy."

  "Well, then, Miss Bedwen, continue working on this until you do."

  "I will, sir, but before I do, I'd like to take a brief break. The intensive work schedule has been a bit too much for me, and I'd like a short break."

  "That sounds good. It's important to us that you finish your education. Come on Friday to get your holiday approved."

  "Thank you, sir," I said, and went out before he had a chance to change his mind.

  19

  With the deadline for the minor thesis being Monday next week, this being a Thursday, I was feeling quite a bit of pressure. For this last-correction-of-the-final-final-final-correction-of-the-final-version, I took a much longer time than usual, carefully typing in paragraph after paragraph.

  When I gave it to grandpa, expecting another flood of red ink, he just read through, taking a few pages out of the binder. After that, he signed the first page, indicating his approval.

  "Re-type these pages with the corrections I've indicated," he said, "and you can submit it. I would advise you to do it today, as the queues in the dean's office are going to be long."

  "That's because they only open 10 am to 12 am," I pointed out.

  Some students missed deadlines because the dean's office always enforced a strict closing time. If you hadn't submitted by Monday, 12 am, you hadn't submitted. You should have gone earlier.

  So I re-typed the pages as quickly as I could (thankfully, none of the pages were the ones that contained the copied Yllamese paragraphs), and rushed to the dean's office. A sizable queue had already formed, an hour before opening time. Quite rare for students to be early risers, but everybody knew the dean's office.

  Submitting felt a bit anticlimactic. The secretary noted the form I filled detailing the details of my plan, checked for the signatures, and stamped the seal with the date. Still, this felt like something to celebrate, so I decided to go see Jack at his workplace. He would finish work soon, and we could go celebrate somewhere.

  I entered the police station and sat on the bench for visitors. The station was empty at closing time, so the policeman at the reception approached me.

  "Miss," he said, "we're about to close now."

  "I know," I said. "I'm waiting for closing time."

  "And why are you waiting here? There's a cafe on the other side of the street."

  "I'm just waiting for Detective Taylor to finish work."

  "Waiting for Detective Taylor? Is he expecting you?" the policeman asked.

  "Oh, no, it's a surprise."

  "Miss," he went on with the questioning. "What is the matter you want to discuss with Detective Taylor? If it's for a police matter, I can help you write a report." Man, he was annoyingly insistent.

  "A personal matter."

  "You shouldn't be handling personal matters at a police station, Miss."

  "And I'm not going to. I'll just wait for Detective Taylor to finish work, and we'll handle our personal business outside the police station. Satisfied?" I was starting to get annoyed at this guy. Why shouldn't I be allowed to sit on a bench in a police station? It's not like I was committing a crime or anything.

  The noise was starting to attract some attention, and people were starting to stare at us. I took out my pocket watch. There were still fifteen minutes until closing time. Was this guy going to be annoying me for the whole fifteen minutes? Man, that would be unbearable. I should have called. But I was already here, waiting for my boyfriend, and I wasn't going to move. It was a matter of principle now.

  "Miss," he continued "a police station…"

  I then saw the sergeant who had sometimes trained with me.

  "Sergeant Moore! Hello!" I called him.

  He came by, quickly assessing the situation. He was in uniform. I wasn't really used to seeing him in anything other than the comfortable training gear. He looked rather sharp in uniform.

  "Hello, Miss Bedwen. Waiting for the Detective to finish work, I see?" he asked cheerfully.

  "Yes," I said. "And I honestly can't see why I can't sit here for fifteen minutes. There are plenty of chairs left, it's not like I'm occupying the last one."

  The sergeant looked at the police receptionist, who seemed less sure now.

  "Of course there's no problem, Miss Bedwen. It's just that it's rare to see a dark woman in a police station with peaceful intentions. So the young man here was just sho
wing a bit too much worry."

  "I'll sit here, then," I said, settling the matter.

  It seemed like they weren't too happy with that solution, though, because a minute after the conversation ended and everybody scattered, Jack came out.

  "Dana!" he exclaimed. "How come you're here? Why didn't you call?"

  "I just missed you," I said, avoiding hugging him, as we were at his workplace after all. "And I wanted us to celebrate.”

  "Celebrate what? I haven't forgotten your birthday, haven't I?"

  "I've finished an important part of my thesis. I'll be having more free time soon."

  "That certainly calls for a celebration! But it's a bit early for dinner. Should we go for a drink?"

  “Don’t you end in fifteen minutes? Why don’t we discuss it then? I’ll just wait here,” by this time, I just wanted to make a point by sitting on the bench until closing time.

  He looked at me, the receptionist, everybody else who was looking, and made a decision.

  “I work so many extra hours,” he declared, “that if I go out a bit early today, nobody will care. So just wait a second, I’ll grab my coat and we’ll go out.”

  “OK. Take as long as you need,” I said, making a point of sitting on the bench again.

  He was very quick at grabbing his coat. Everybody at the station was staring at me by this point. I smiled at them.

  Jack came back, with his coat in his arms. He started putting it on.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  I could see he was in a hurry to go out, so we did, but I had to discuss what had just happened.

  “Are you ashamed of me?” I asked, maybe a bit too confrontationally.

  He looked at me from his 6 foot height, exasperated.

  “Why would you think that? I’ve introduced you to my colleagues in the gym, haven’t I? As for what happened just now… Some people can be difficult. That’s all. I didn’t want it to escalate.”

  “I did nothing wrong,” I pointed out. “I was just waiting for you. Maybe I should have called, but it was a bit spontaneous. I thought you’d like it.”

  “And I did,” he assured me. “But next time, call me. I’ll try to smooth things out. We’ll need to get my colleagues trained for them to get used to this.”

  That cheered me up.

  “You’ll try to make your colleagues accept me?” I asked, feeling a tingly sensation in my stomach.

  “Well, if you are going to be a permanent part of my life,” he said. “It’s quite normal that you’d visit me. Wouldn’t want it to become such a spectacle every time.”

  The tingly sensation increased. Being let into Jack’s life felt great. It was… what I had been waiting for. I breathed in, taking the plunge.

  “Those drinks we talked about,“ I said, “I’d like to have them in your house."

  He stared at me. After all the times he invited me there, I was the one deciding the right moment for me. It felt good.

  "You sure?" he asked. "You wanted to take things slow."

  "I did. But this has been slow enough for me already," I admitted.

  "Great," he said, raising his hand to hail a cab.

  "Isn't your home close to here?" I asked.

  "It's quite close, yes," he said, grabbing me below the waist. "But I've got an urgent matter at home."

  As a cab stopped, he opened the door for me, helping me in, quickly instructing the cabby. He then sat by me and kissed me. The kiss felt just perfect. No more a promise of things to come, but a moment of passion in the here and now, slow, breathless, wonderful. As a bump on the road made us stop for a moment, I put my hands into his hair and kissed him again, with all the fire and built-up desire I had felt for the last few months.

  When the cab arrived, the cabbie had to knock to make us get out, so entranced were we in our (third? Fourth? Who cares?) kiss.

  Jack quickly paid the cabbie, and we headed up, to his apartment, kissing on every step we were taking. I stayed a step higher than him, which allowed me just the right angle to reach his head, as on even ground he had to bend down to kiss.

  I'm not sure how he managed to open the door to his apartment, as I started kissing his neck, hugging him from behind. We came plunging in through the door, quickly removing our clothes, with an urgency that burnt like fire. The many layers of clothes we were both wearing took an eternity to take off, an eternity we spent going from the corridor to the bedroom, losing layers of clothing with every step we took. He playfully pushed me to the bed when he arrived at the bedroom, and I fell onto it, breathless. He leaned, to kiss my neck, and moved to my breasts, as I hugged his back, scratching him a bit. He was about to take his underpants when I had a brief moment of clarity.

  "Wait," I said.

  "What is it? Do you want to wait some more? Because you sure made it harder for me to wait," Jack said, but still gave me the space.

  "No, it's not that. It's just… Have you been to a healer lately? You know, to…"

  "Ah," he said, amused, as he took his underpants off, and leaned by me. "I did, just a month ago."

  "But a month ago, we were still…"

  "Well," he said. "I wanted to be prepared. Now, woman, don't ruin the mood, and shut up," and he quieted me down in the most pleasant of ways.

  It felt just right. We hadn't had sex in years, but our bodies knew each other. There was a familiarity and tenderness that is never there in the first times, combined with the built-up passion and longing of months of chaste dating. And, as he entered into me, it felt just right, like everything was coming together in a moment of an alignment of stars.

  "So, what happened today?" Jack asked afterward, as we were lying face to face, caressing my back and waist. "You said you were going to be much freer now. Is that so?"

  "It seems so, for the moment," I said, kissing a scratch mark I had left on his shoulder. "But don't worry, I'll always have time for you."

  He kissed me again, going for my neck this time.

  "I'm glad. But what made you change your mind? About us," he clarified.

  "Well, it's not like I didn't want to go all the way in. I just… Wanted to be sure."

  "And what made you sure?"

  "Not really sure. It just felt like the right time. Everything's going so well now. I'm finally making advances with my work, the research we're doing with Prof. Bedwen is going really well, and I thought I should make our relationship go well, too. Not that it wasn't going well. I really liked having conversations with you. And going to the theater."

  "I liked that too," he said. "But I did miss you in my bed." His hand moved from my back towards my breasts. I smiled and rolled on top of him.

  My life's perfect. I've got a wonderful boyfriend, a family back home, and a family here. My research seems to be going well. I could become a magister. What could possibly go wrong?

  I woke up unusually late — the sun was already quite high, peeking through the windows. I rolled around the bed. Jack was not there. I didn't want to get up, so I rolled around again, looking straight at the door. My body felt relaxed like I hadn't been in a while. I stared at the closed door, trying to summon Jack with my mind.

  He came in soon (never expected that to work, actually), with a bouquet of roses.

  "Flowers?" I asked, sitting up.

  "Good morning to you too. And yes, flowers. I won't bring breakfast to bed, because then we'll just get crumbs on the bed."

  "So logical," I grumbled, accepting the flowers. I stared at the bouquet, trying to see what I could do with it. I couldn't eat it, right? And the thorns make for a terrible bed. I settled for putting it on the bedside table, pulling Jack towards me and kissing him.

  "As much as I'd like to spend all day with you in bed," he said, gently loosening my grip, "I need to go to work today. I made some breakfast, so we can eat it now, and then I'll head to work."

  "Sounds like a plan," I said. "But we could skip the breakfast part." I tried to grab him again, but he stepped away, making me stand u
p, completely naked.

  Jack headed to the bathroom and gave me a bathrobe.

  "As much as I like seeing you naked," he observed. "I really do need to go to work, and my clothes were just ironed. So put this on and let's get some food."

  I put the bathrobe on, but not before stealing another kiss.

  Breakfast was quite a fast affair. While he made me a tray of food, Jack just ate a couple of pieces of toast, after which he ran out of the door.

  "Really have to go to work. But will we see each other again tonight?" he asked, leaning towards me for a last kiss.

  "Sure," I said.

  "Lock the door when you leave," he instructed me, going towards the door. "I left some towels in the bathroom so you can wash up."

  "OK."

  I followed him down the corridor, waving my hand by the door, as he rushed down the stairs, and returned to eating breakfast. The advantages of not having a fixed schedule. Of course, he always left work at four, whereas I usually worked till dinnertime, but still.

  After having breakfast, and even cleaning the dishes, I headed to the bathroom, where I had a bath. Baths are not an option in the dorms, where we get long queues in the mornings and evenings. Even showers that take more than five minutes will get you extremely dirty looks from fellow dormmates.

  As I dried myself after the bath and started to collect the clothes around the apartment, I pondered what I would do for today. I had to go see the captain today, to get my holiday approved. And afterward… Well, no idea, but it would be nice to take the day off just for myself.

  20

  As I came into the building, I noticed the guard wasn't there. That wasn't so rare; sometimes, he just stepped out of his post to go to the loo. So I just signed my name on the entrance list (if I didn't, I would have to explain in excruciating detail what I was doing inside when I wanted to go out). The guards, who were all familiar with me after half a year of me working here, allowed some flexibility as long as I obeyed a few rules. Like signing up when entering.