The Apprentice's Path: The Alchemist #1

by Stacey Keystone

  "I have lots of things to do," I said, putting on my warm clothes. "I have to pack my stuff in the dorms, check some literature for my minor thesis, submit the sick leave form in the dean's office, apply to the Applied Practical Magic Department, go to the Floyd scholarship fund to tell them they'll have to pay extra for that, now. And attend all the classes I have for today."

  "Why do you have to apply to the dark magic department?" Jack asked.

  "Because I'm a mage now, and I need to get a mage's license. And for that, I need to graduate with a degree in magic."

  "But isn't the apprenticeship enough?"

  "I could never grow as a mage if I don't have a university degree in magic," I pointed out, "and the apprenticeship would become much longer without a degree."

  "I thought you didn't want to become a mage," Jack wondered. "And now you want career growth in magic?"

  "It wouldn't be good to limit myself. Besides, now that I have the responsibilities, might as well enjoy the benefits."

  Jack wanted to say something else, but I'd had already put on all the layers of clothes and had the folder with the papers in my hands.

  "Anyway," I told him, going towards the door, "I'll see you tonight again. I'll come here at the same time. Goodbye."

  "Bye," said Jack, as I was closing the door behind me. So much to do!

  The day was intense; I was running around all day, going to the classes, sorting out all the issues after two months of non-attendance. My classmates willingly lent me their notes, and the professors allowed me to catch up on the lab practicals. Thankfully, the second semester I only had classes in alchemy, and I knew most things well enough to catch up. I was the best student in my year for a reason.

  But the number of lab practicals I would have to do was going to be brutal. I stared at the proposed times, trying to fit it all into my timetable. Some of it was going to be impossible without the ability to teleport. I would have to stop attending lectures while I recover all the lost practical hours, probably. But I know the theory solid, so that shouldn't be much of an issue.

  Still, I could catch up on all the compulsory classes in two weeks. It was going to be intense, but I could do it. If they leave me alone, that is.

  I looked up as a gendarme in uniform sat next to me on the park bench.

  "Good afternoon, Captain Briggs," I said.

  "Good afternoon, Miss Bedwen," he said, trying to look at my notes. I quickly put them into the folder. My schedule was none of his business. "I see you've had a very busy day," he observed.

  "Indeed," I agreed, coldly. I hadn't done everything I wanted to do for the day, but then, it had been a long shot. But I had submitted my sick leave, applied for the double major in magic and alchemy (thankfully, the dark mages' deans' office was a lot more flexible about schedules; quite reasonable, when dealing with explosive dangerous weapons of mass destruction), and attended all my classes. I had to skip lunch, of course, but, with all the stress, I wasn't feeling very hungry. "I'm still busy. Have a good day, Captain Briggs," I said, standing up, putting the bag on my shoulder. If I wasn't going to get a respite, at least I could do something useful.

  "And where are you going now?" Captain Briggs asked. "Your classes are over."

  "To the Floyd Fund's offices," I informed him. I didn't have to, but it was trivially obtainable information.

  "Now, you can do that another day."

  "And what are you suggesting I do instead?" I asked him. He hadn't officially arrested me yet, and I could guess why. A poor, dark student, I had been an easy target to pin a mysterious death on; but now that a respected lawyer was my master, they couldn't just make up something. And the judge would ask for more evidence, now that it was likely the case could be appealed and overturned.

  "You could clarify some questions we have regarding Captain Greggs' death," the gendarme said.

  "Gladly," I said, "in the presence of my master and my lawyer. What happened to Captain Greggs was a tragedy, and I'd like to learn who did it. I wouldn't want there to be any misunderstandings. So you can give me your list of questions, and I'll give you the answers. In writing."

  "We don't accept written statements," the Captain said.

  "Too bad," I replied. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go see my master."

  "I thought you were going to the Floyd fund," the Captain asked.

  "I'll do that tomorrow," I replied.

  31

  Grandpa was home when I came after the Captain's unpleasant visit. He was in his office, sorting through some paperwork.

  "Ah, Dana. I thought you were having a busy day. You haven't even come to eat lunch. Have you eaten at all?" he said, shuffling the papers aside.

  "No, I haven't eaten anything since breakfast," I admitted. "But that's not what I came for. Captain Briggs came to see me just now."

  Grandpa rang the bell and asked the maid who came by to bring some sandwiches and tea.

  "Ah, yes. Those gendarmes," he said, furrowing his brow. "They visited me, too. Did you tell him anything?"

  "No, other than my plans for the day. But he insisted I visit them to answer some questions."

  "It will be hard for them to get an arrest warrant," grandpa said, "for the death of Captain Greggs. Their only evidence would be that you were the only person who saw him wounded. No other witnesses, no physical evidence, no motive."

  "Maybe I should visit them? With you and my lawyer, that is. Whoever that is. To get done with it, so they can leave me alone."

  "They probably won't leave you alone," grandpa said. "Until they find the real culprit. But visiting them will clarify some things. Let's go," he said, picking up his coat from the hanger.

  "Where?" I asked, confused.

  "To see your lawyer. I have told him, in broad strokes, what the issue is, but it will be good to prepare you for questioning. And remember, in front of others, you should call me Master Bedwen."

  He opened the door, holding it for me. He was just so old-fashioned sometimes.

  "Yes, sir," I said, grabbing a couple of sandwiches from the tray the maid brought and was about to bring in. I was hungry after all.

  My lawyer was still working despite the late hour. It was nice to see that grandpa had selected a hard-working lawyer; that inspired confidence. Considering grandpa had chosen him, I expected another old geezer, but he turned out to be middle-aged. Mister Hurston, his name was. There were no secretaries in the office, so, after the security guard recognized grandpa and let us in, nobody stopped us on the way to his office. We knocked and came into a busy office full of reams of documents, every inch of shelving occupied by folders and files, and some of them spreading to the floor.

  Mister Hurston, who had been rummaging through some of the documents he had on the floor, looked up.

  "Ah, Professor Bedwen. And that must be Miss Bedwen," he said, standing up and tending the hand.

  They shook hands with the familiarity of men that knew each other for a while.

  "Yes, this is my apprentice, Miss Bedwen," grandpa introduced me. "Miss Bedwen, this is Mister Hurston, your lawyer."

  Mister Hurston extended his hand towards me, and I felt his firm, steady handshake. He looked composed now that he wasn't kneeling on the floor.

  "Great to meet you, Miss Bedwen. I've heard about you from Professor Bedwen for the last year. He has quite a high opinion of your skills."

  That grandpa had been talking about me at all was quite a surprise. He certainly never invited me for any event, nor did he introduce me to any of his friends. I smiled at Mister Hurston, glancing at grandpa's nonplussed face.

  "Nice to meet you," I replied. "Master Bedwen has quite a high opinion of your legal skills."

  "Oh, and I hope to meet his expectations," Mister Hurston replied.

  "Now, Ansell," grandpa said, reducing the level of formality in the room by many degrees, "the gendarmes have paid another visit to Miss Bedwen. I'd like them to stop bothering her. She has to focus on her studies of magic, and it
won't be possible with the gendarmes trying to pin their unsolved case on her."

  "While you told me about the case in very broad terms, Dave," Mister Hurston said, "I'd like to learn more before we proceed. Now, Miss Bedwen, if you could sit and tell me about what happened..."

  I looked around, trying to see if there was any available surface I could sit on. There wasn't anything; even the table was folly occupied by perilously leaning stacks of paper.

  "We should go to the conference room," Mister Hurston said. "And I'll bring some warm drinks. Coffee, tea?"

  "Coffee, please," I replied. I usually preferred tea, but on this occasion, I felt like having something stronger.

  "Well, go ahead, then. I'll go make some coffee and bring my notes. My secretary has finished her workday, you see," Mister Hurston said, opening the door and holding it for me. Are all of grandpa's acquaintances so old-fashioned?

  As we sat in the conference room, waiting for Mister Hurston to come, I looked at grandpa.

  "So you told him about me?" I asked, wondering how much grandpa had shared about me.

  "I did," grandpa said. "It was impossible not to. There were so many rumors flying around about you and me, with all your visits to my home. Even you parading your beau around did not quench all of them."

  "So what did you say?" I asked, turning my voice down.

  "That you're a very talented student, with a very close relationship with my son. The ones who know about Billie understood," grandpa explained. "Billie doesn't like most people. He's had many governesses and nurses, all scared away by him. He's as strong as a grown man, even if his mind is not that of a grownup. The male teachers he's had couldn't deal with him, either."

  "But Billie is so sweet," I said, surprised.

  "He just likes you. If he didn't, he wouldn't seek your company. He probably felt on a deeper level that you were Claire's favorite. He can be really perceptive for a child."

  I shrugged. Maybe that was the case, or maybe all those governesses and teachers didn't know how to play with children.

  "So, you told them I'm your student and Billie's friend," I said. "You didn't tell anybody the full truth, haven't you?"

  "Of course not," grandpa said. "Nobody knows, except for Bettie, who likes to listen in a bit too much. But she's loyal, and she has told nobody."

  "As long as you trust her," I said. I didn't have a formed opinion about grandpa's housekeeper. She was loyal, but she was quite noisy. She might enjoy gossiping a bit too much. But if grandpa says he trusts her, he's got a good reason.

  "If everybody around you already knows about me," I said, going to a normal tone, "maybe you should introduce me formally. After all, as your apprentice, I'll be living with you for the next three years."

  "I could organize a dinner party," grandpa said, "when I find a house. Invite a few of my friends, all that. You should bring your beau there, and maybe your friend, too."

  As he was saying that, Mister Hurston stumbled in, carrying a tray with the coffee and milk. I stood up and took the tray off his hands. He went back and brought a notebook, as I started serving the coffee. Not because I am a woman, but because I was the lowest ranking person in the room, and the youngest one, also.

  "Sugar, milk?" I asked them, as I poured coffee into the cups he brought.

  "Milk, no sugar, please," grandpa said.

  "Milk, three sugars, please, Miss Bedwen," Mister Hurston asked.

  I served them, and myself. Grandpa and I had the same taste in coffee. But mother had shaped my tastes; makes sense they'd be similar to her family's.

  "So, Miss Bedwen," Mister Hurston said, putting the cup of coffee aside, as he opened his notebook and prepared the notebook to take some notes. "Please tell us what happened on the day of Captain Greggs' day, in detail."

  I took a sip of milky coffee, steadying myself, and started talking, trying to remember every detail of the day. Mister Hurston took notes throughout, making clarifying questions. As I was about to tell him about how I had burned the bomb with my magic, I looked at grandpa.

  "You can tell him about that, too," grandpa said. "It's not an ongoing crime, so he's bound by attorney-client privilege."

  So I told him about my use of magic too, the Initiation, and how I ended up in the hospital, where I'd been informed about Captain Greggs' day.

  "He shouldn't have died, not with the wound he had," I told Mister Hurston. "There was quite a bit of blood, but he was still breathing when I left him. And, considering how the healers saved me from severe burns, they should have saved him from that simple stab wound, too. It wasn't that bad."

  Mister Hurston nodded.

  "You did the right thing, Miss Bedwen, calling for help. As for burning the lab... As that is a matter of the use of magic by an apprentice, that will be handled by a magical tribunal. We can get that thrown out as prejudicial if it ever gets to court."

  "Can they arrest me with this evidence?" I asked, holding the cup of coffee in the palm of my hands, trying to warm my suddenly cold fingers.

  "Not for long, no. Especially if you cooperate. I'll call the gendarmerie, and schedule a voluntary meeting. It's better to be proactive here. So, if you'll excuse me, I'll go make that call."

  Mister Hurston left, and I turned to look at grandpa.

  "So, is that all?" I asked.

  "Well," grandpa said. "After Ansell schedules that meeting, we're going to start prepping you. You're quite good, but there are still a few issues we'll need to hammer down."

  "Prep me?" I asked.

  "For the questioning. You told us the story, clearly, and to your best memory. Now you need to learn how to say it without contradicting yourself."

  "But I'm saying the truth," I said, puzzled.

  "Sure," grandpa said, with a smile, as if surprised by my naivete. "But saying the truth is not enough. You need to appear to say the truth. Sometimes, the police will try to catch you in the smallest of details you misremember and accuse you of lying. At the same time, you shouldn't sound too stilted, saying the same thing the same way over and over; you need to be natural, but while sticking to the truth. And not revealing anything inconvenient."

  Mister Hurston returned then.

  "I've scheduled an appointment. At mid-day tomorrow," he announced.

  "Isn't that a bit too early?" grandpa asked. "We need to prepare Miss Bedwen."

  "Your apprentice is a fairly smart girl," Mister Hurston replied. "I'm sure a couple of hours will be enough."

  "A couple of hours?" I asked. "But I promised Jack I'd go to his house in the late afternoon. If we need to spend more time, it will be late evening."

  "You should call him then," grandpa said. "And told him you can't make it. Ansell, surely you'll allow Miss Bedwen to use your phone?"

  "Sure," Mister Hurston replied. "Miss Bedwen, you're welcome to use the phone in my office. I'll let you make the phone call in private," he said, escorting me to his office.

  Jack was quite understanding when I called him at work to tell I couldn't possibly make it to his home at any reasonable time.

  "Should I leave some dinner for you, then?" he asked.

  "I wouldn't want to keep you waiting," I protested.

  "Oh, I don't mind. I understand you have to solve the legal troubles you're in. And I'd like to hear what you have to say."

  "All right then," I said. "I'll come to your home as soon as I'm done with this witness prep. But let me warn you, they seem eager to keep me here for hours."

  "As they should," Jack said. "As a detective, I don't like having my witnesses and suspects prepped, but it is nice to know you're getting prepped. It does make our job harder, but I'm glad you're protected."

  "Don't stay up too late," I told him. "I'll try not to wake you up if I arrive too late."

  "I'll leave you some sandwiches before I go to bed," he said. "Make sure not to go to bed hungry."

  "I won't. Have a good evening, then. I'll come as soon as those two release me," I promised.

&
nbsp; They questioned me for hours. If this is how police questioning works, I understand the hapless idiots who confess to crimes. Both of them, in tandem, and separately, kept asking me very similar questions in different ways, catching me at any inconsistency, meticulously pointing out every fine detail I said slightly differently earlier. I wonder how we still have so many criminals who remain uncaught. The criminals are usually not that smart. Maybe the police just spend all the effort on the innocent.

  By the time grandpa and Mister Hurston declared they were satisfied with my composure and readiness, it was already 2 am. While I'm never afraid of walking the streets at night (that's why I have steel-reinforced gloves and boots, a couple of hidden knives, and an attack artifact for self-defense), I wanted to get enough rest for the next day, so I hailed a cab. The fee he charged me, this late into the night, was quite outrageous, but I paid him after haggling for a bit. It's not like there are that many cabs in the streets at night.

  I went to Jack's apartment, lighting the way up the stairs with the small oil lamp I kept in my pocket (despite the gas lamps, sometimes some corners of Ashford are too dark at night; besides, the dorms switch off all the light at eleven, so I need to light my way at night). I opened the door as quietly as I could, making the least noise with the key. The lights were off; Jack must have been asleep already. So I went to the kitchen, where I switched on the lights and saw the sandwiches he left for me. I ate quickly; I was ravenous, as they didn't feed me during the prep. I was told it was in preparation for what the police would do. Quite rude they were, also, eating right in front of me. But this bacon and cheese sandwich Jack had left for me compensated for quite a lot. It was so considerate of him.

  I finished eating, and washed my hands and face in the kitchen sink, after which I switched off the light, and went to the bedroom, where I undressed and quietly entered the bed.

  "Dana?" I heard a whisper.

  "Yes," I whispered, "I hope I didn't wake you up."