The Apprentice's Path: The Alchemist #1

by Stacey Keystone

  "Yes. Because I had to size him up. It would have been much harder to do it in your presence. He wouldn't forgive me threats in your presence. That's not something a dark mage forgets."

  I nodded, accepting the explanation. Dark mages don't handle anything that threatens their power over those directly under their command well. While you could get away with standing your ground, if you did it in front of somebody's inferiors, they would never forget it. And, as my master, he wouldn't want me to see him fail.

  "So, is this how you will handle all disagreements with him?" I asked.

  "That's the only way to handle disagreements with him while not making an enemy out of him," grandpa explained. "That man has pride in spades, and he won't forgive anybody who questions him publicly."

  "You still need to tell me what you learned," I said.

  Jack was right. Talking with grandpa, everything was a lot more reasonable than it seemed at first. I guess I am impulsive, quickly jumping to conclusions. I would have to work on that.

  "And I will," grandpa said. "Tell you everything relevant to you."

  And he told me, in all detail, everything he learned from his conversation with the Major, without mentioning any kind of detail as to how the conversation went. I guess that's how things will work from now. I need to learn spy spells.

  "So, the government is interested in me, because I went through a spontaneous Initiation? And they want to see whether I get special talents?" I summed up grandpa's tale.

  "That's what it seems like. So, for as long as you're useful to them, they'll try to keep you safe."

  "So it's not about the secret project Captain Greggs was managing? It's not about what I learned?"

  "I'm not sure. I couldn't ask the Major those questions; I'm not supposed to know, because you were supposed to keep everything secret. Maybe they're pursuing two objectives. Or more. With spies, you never really know; you can only guess."

  "Right. And why this much interest in an unlicensed Initiation?" I asked.

  "Well, I investigated the issue," grandpa said. "You know the Initiation ritual was created by the Inquisition?"

  "I've heard that. They developed the ritual for dark arall after the one for lights. I guess it's one of those cases of universal magic."

  "If it were universal," grandpa said, "it would be a shared ritual, wouldn't it?"

  "I guess," I acknowledged. "But maybe they introduced some modifications for dark mages?"

  "Precisely," grandpa said. "It's just legends, but there are dark skills which have disappeared, and are thought to have never existed. Prediction. Inspection. Necromancy."

  "Necromancy?" I laughed. "That's absurd. It doesn't exist."

  "Some think it doesn't exist because, for a millennium, the Inquisition has made sure that only mages without the talent have become mages."

  "And I'm a necromancer?" I asked, curiously.

  "Well, you could be. Who knows? Nobody even knows what a necromancer is supposed to do. All the materials have been destroyed. Or you could be a prophet. I don't think even they know. But your aura is unusual; I noticed that when I described it for the paperwork. I guess that sparked their interest."

  "So what now?" I asked. "How do we get rid of him?"

  "We don't," grandpa said. When I wanted to say something, he raised his palm, shushing me. "Because you might have some talent. I'll make sure he does nothing dangerous to you. And whatever skills you may have, it will be useful to learn them. Besides, he's right: I can't teach you dark magic. I can't teach you anything besides the basics of self-control. I was going to hire a dark mage to teach you, but a master whose reputation is at stake will always take it much more seriously than a hired teacher. So, learn what you can from him, and I'll make sure you don't get in trouble."

  Why did grandpa have to be so reasonable, while saying the most ridiculous things?

  "OK, Gramps," I said. "I'll listen to you this time. But I'll keep an eye on both of you. Don't think you can make me do weird things just because I don't know magic. I've already enrolled in the summer courses. I'll start learning magic once the semester is over."

  "That's great," grandpa replied. "That will allow you to cut your extra year, right?"

  "Yes," I replied. "If I study through the summer, and add to my coursework for next year, I can finish my degree on time. There aren't that many courses in the last year anyway, since it's the time dedicated to the thesis. But that won't be too hard. Alchemy is my forte, after all."

  "Great," grandpa said. "But remember, just because you finish your degree on time, it doesn't mean you'll be free. You will still have two years of apprenticeship left."

  "I take things as they come," I said, shrugging.

  Bettie knocked on the door.

  "Dinner's ready," she said.

  I looked at grandpa who stood up.

  "Let's go have dinner, then."

  39

  "Your grandpa's right," Jack said when I came back home to complain about grandpa. "You need to learn dark magic from somebody, and you could as well use Major Craen, since he's volunteering."

  "I kind of expected you to say it," I said, leaning on his shoulder.

  "Then why did you tell me?" he asked.

  "Because I wanted to see if we thought the same thing. I guess it is the most reasonable choice. I still don't like it."

  "It's not like you can kick him out," Jack said. "He's been imposed by the magic tribunal, and if you disobey, they would block your magic."

  "Why do you always have to be so reasonable? Sometimes I just want to, you know, wind down. Release my feelings."

  "If you want to just release your feelings," Jack said, "You should restart training. You haven't been getting any exercise for weeks. As for now... How about we try other forms of relaxation?" he said, slipping his hands under my shirt.

  I smiled, feeling better. I'm glad I'm not going through it alone.

  After class, I went to see grandpa again. We hadn't discussed everything yet, but we had made peace with each other. Now was the time to discuss the nitty-gritty details of how we'd handle everything.

  I knocked, but nobody answered. I tried pushing the door, and it opened. I came in, noticing the place had even less furniture than it had yesterday. I went towards grandpa's office since that was the place where he spent most of his time at home. He was there, packing his files into boxes.

  "Hi, Gramps," I said, quickly assessing the situation. It seemed like I packed most things, and he was just organizing the files into the few leftover boxes. The drawers of his desk were out and emptied. The artifacts that littered his desk space, were visibly absent; I noticed a few of the boxes had notes "Dangerous: Magical Artifacts" on them. "Why are you packing yourself?"

  "Because if I let anybody else do it, they'll create a colossal mess. And nobody else can handle my artifacts; they were custom made for me," grandpa said, putting the last folder into an already full box and tying it up with a thin string.

  "You still haven't told me where your new house will be," I said. "And I'm supposed to be living there with you."

  Grandpa, who left the box with the folders on top of the pile he had beside him, straightened up, looking outside.

  "Right. I didn't," he acknowledged, turning to look at me. "That's because I knew you wouldn't like it too much."

  "What could it be?" I asked. "It can't be a dump much worse than the dorms, and I lived there for the last three years."

  "It's the Inquisition College."

  "I was wrong. It can be much worse. Gramps, I don't believe in bad auras or anything, but that place hasn't been in use for fifty years. It has no light, plumbing, or any modern facilities. Besides, the roof is leaking, and the floors have rotten."

  The Inquisition College was the oldest part of Ashford University. That's where it all started; that's where experiments on mages were performed, and that's where they were buried afterward, too. That place has more dead mages than most cities' cemeteries. And dead mages tend
to leave a mark on their resting place, especially if they died an unpleasant death. Or at least that's what superstitious people believe, and most dark mages I've met are superstitious.

  So, with the reputation of the building, the University hadn't been able to get a use out of it, since everybody refused to have classes there or live there. That's why it had fallen into a state of disrepair.

  "Well, I'm glad you don't believe in bad auras," grandpa said. "Since everything else has been fixed. It's taken a couple of months, but it's finally fixed. Has plumbing and gas lighting and everything."

  "A couple of months? When did you buy the house?" I asked.

  "I bought it when I arrived at Ashford," grandpa said. "It's the right size, about the size of our family house. It was very cheap, too. But the permits and finding a crew to fix up the place took an eternity. That's why I was living in the house the university gave me."

  I smirked. The repair crew must have cost him a fortune. People are so superstitious.

  "I'll check it out," I promised. "If it's comfortable enough, I'll move in."

  "Oh, I'm sure you'll like the apartment I've assigned you," grandpa said.

  "Apartment?" I asked with curiosity.

  "Well, you'll be getting the upper floor of the West wing," grandpa said. "The one on top of the magic training hall I've set up."

  "You set up a training hall?" I asked. Rooms for magic were expensive. The safety spells and artifacts had to be part of the walls, and all of it was custom magic, crafted for each place.

  "I renovated the one they already had," grandpa said. "They trained dark mages there, after all."

  "And did who knows what to them afterward," I said.

  "Well, we don't know what they did, exactly," grandpa said.

  I have a deep suspicion grandpa does know.

  "But, since the basic architecture was correct, I just had to have the protections renovated. They were a bit antiquated, so it took a bit of time, but eventually the master did it. So we've got an individual training hall for you, undetectable to the gendarmerie. Where you can have all the privacy you want. If it turns out you have mysterious secret powers, that will be useful."

  "Don't you need permission for that kind of thing?" I asked.

  "Well, you need a ton of paperwork to create a new one," grandpa acknowledged. "Since the gendarmerie doesn't like places outside of its observation network. But that place is grandfathered in, and I could renovate it without telling anybody."

  Being outside the control of the gendarmerie was a great point. As for the bad aura and superstition... I'm an alchemist, not a superstitious prole.

  "Alright," I said. "I'll move in. But I need to prepare to move into a house with ghosts."

  I don't believe in ghosts, but if pretending to do so means I get to toy with grandpa...

  I spent all the time after class roaming the parts of the city around the rubbish dumps. I was looking for a black cat, with no white hairs. Legend says that such animals can pacify ghosts. It's not like I believed that, but bringing a street cat to grandpa's new house was a small way to show my displeasure. My family never had cats, although cats are popular in Caerland; people think they clean bad auras. I never believed that, but I still looked for the perfect cat. I had a cage and an artifact for attracting animals I acquired for this very purpose.

  After a couple of days, I found the perfect cat. It was a bit wild, and whenever I tried to approach it, it hissed. But that's what the artifact was for. I opened the cage and activated the artifact, putting it inside the cage.

  I could see the cat was resisting the call, looking at me with a pang of fear and distrust. I felt a momentary bit of pity, but then hardened my mind. It's not like I would mistreat her or anything: I planned to give her a better life. And I'd observed her long enough to make sure she had no kittens. She would be happier in her new place.

  So, when the cat, with a panicky look on its face, entered the cage, I closed and locked it after her. She started furiously meowing when I deactivated the artifact. I tossed some sausage inside and brought the cage home.

  "Why did you bring a cat to my house?" Jack asked when I brought the caged cat home.

  "Don't worry, it's just for tonight. I'm bringing it to our new home tomorrow," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  "Our new home?" Jack asked.

  "Mine and hers," I said, nodding towards the cat. "We're moving to grandpa's new home tomorrow."

  "Ah, so that's what you're doing," Jack said relaxing and sitting down to the sofa. "I wondered what you'd do. I knew you wouldn't leave him alone after he angered you. I just didn't think you'd bring a street cat to his home as revenge."

  "It's not revenge," I replied, innocently. "It's just that it's the first time I'll be getting this much space. I could never have a cat, and now I finally get to have one. Besides, she'll love the ghost house."

  "I thought cats don't like ghosts," Jack said. "Isn't it cruel to bring her there?"

  "Black cats love ghosts," I replied. "They can make peace with them. They bring good luck to a magical home. I'm sure she will be happy in her new home."

  "Why aren't you releasing her from the cage, if you think she'll be happy, then?" Jack asked.

  "Because she doesn't understand her happiness yet," I replied, scratching the itch I had on my arm. The cat had scratched me when I put my arm too close to the cage.

  "Right," Jack said, his skepticism clear. I could see he didn't approve of my harebrained scheme. Yes, I knew bringing a wild cat to grandpa's new house was not the best of ideas. But I still hoped it would pee on his carpet or something.

  On Saturday, I presented myself at grandpa's house, with all my scant belongings (comprising two suitcases, plus a bunch of books tied in a rope) and knocked on the door.

  "Are you sure about this?" Jack asked, as he lowered the cage to the floor.

  "Of course," I replied, as Bettie came, with grandpa behind her.

  "Hi, Gramps," I said. "I brought a protector to the house."

  And then I opened the cage, letting the cat out, wearing thick leather gloves, so she couldn't scratch me. She didn't even try, though. She stepped out, at a leisurely pace, and sat before the entrance.

  "I can see that," grandpa said, eyeing the cat. "Where did you even get this cat? Black cats are rare."

  "In the garbage dump," I replied. "She was there, eating the leftovers. I could see she was starving, so she doesn't have an owner. So, I fed her and brought her here. She should clean this house of ghosts. And rats."

  "She doesn't seem too keen to come in, though," grandpa observed, without commenting on the place where I got the cat.

  "Yes, I'll wait. She needs to come into the house first, say hello to the spirits before I do; she'll mediate on my behalf."

  "Somehow, I doubt she'll do that," Jack said, from behind. I gave him a look that quieted his attempt at humor.

  The cat groomed herself. I could see she was a very clean cat, notwithstanding the dumpster diving.

  "This could take all day," grandpa said.

  "Well, if it takes all day, it takes all day," I replied, sitting on a suitcase and taking a book out of the pile.

  As I sat there, reading, grandpa lost his patience.

  "Oh, for crying out loud, stop this circus! You," he pointed his finger at the cat, making a magical gesture. "Come into the house. You," pointing his finger at me, "bring your things inside."

  The cat didn't look so trapped this time. It looked at grandpa, as if having a conversation with him, stood up, and entered the house, crossing the boundary. It immediately started to groom again.

  "Now that the house has a protector," grandpa said, with irony in his voice, "and that the ghosts have been scared away, will you come in?"

  "But that's cheating!" I said, as I watched the well-behaved cat (I know she's pretending, she was meowing like crazy through the night, and even scratched me this morning when I tried to give her a sausage). "What did you do to her? She
looks like a lady now!"

  Indeed, the cat was perfectly behaved. Not scratching the floor, not trying to play with the rug, or climb the curtains. She even let grandpa take her into his arms.

  "I didn't force her or anything," grandpa said. "We just reached an understanding. She'll behave, and I'll let her live in my house. It was so thoughtful of you to bring a protector, Dana. A house like this needs one. I should have thought of that earlier."

  I watched them leave, with the cat purring in his hands.

  "It's supposed to be my cat," I said, acknowledging defeat to Jack, as he helped me bring my suitcases in.

  "You couldn't win against him with an animal," Jack said. "He may be a lawyer, but he's a magister of light magic. Of course he can make peace with a cat. You'll see, she'll be domesticated in a week."

  I harrumphed and turned to Bettie, who had been observing everything with quiet amusement.

  "Show me my room, please," I said.

  And followed her towards my apartment, which was in the Western part of the building. It was so big, it took us five minutes just to get there. I reconsidered. To bring any damage to the house, I'd need at least five cats. But, considering the way Grandpa handled the one cat, I'm sure he can handle five, too.

  40

  "Well, you got a big apartment," Jack said, as he put my two suitcases in the middle of the room that looked like a living room. In the section assigned to me, there was space for a bedroom, a bathroom, a living room, and an office. It was huge.

  My two suitcases looked even smaller in the huge living room.

  "I knew grandpa was rich, but now... Wow!" I exclaimed, checking out the furniture in the room. The living room, with its oak floor, and huge half fan arched windows, was brightly lit with the morning sun. A corner was occupied by a big, leather sofa, which made me think of cozy evenings snuggling under a blanket. The wall-to-wall bookcase was empty, and the few books I owned would only fill half a shelf. I felt poorer than ever here.