Alchemy's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 5)

by D J Salisbury

  Jroduin and the servers watched in fascination.

  Tsai’dona and Bess didn’t even blink.

  The headwaiter growled.

  The attendants’ faces turned bright red. They scurried off to the kitchen.

  Jroduin carved up a pear and ate it thoughtfully.

  The pears and chestnuts were quite good. The pork wasn’t bad. But he hated the way Lorel watched his every bite. He handed her his wine glass. Maybe it would distract her. Besides, he was having trouble focusing.

  She drank his wine slowly. For her, anyway.

  Plates and silverware vanished. Had the waiters cleared up so quickly?

  More servers swarmed their table.

  Oh no, not another course. Not more wine. He could barely sit up.

  A plate of green-coated meat was set in front of each of them, with a double portion on Lorel’s.

  The headwaiter solemnly declaimed, “Setoyan horsemeat in horseradish sauce.”

  Lorel’s jaw dropped. She struggled to stand up from the low chair. “No way. I ain’t never eating no horsemeat. That’s disgusting!”

  The crowd of attendants fled.

  Blast, blast, and sandblast. Viper tried to pull her back into her chair. He clung to her forearm, even attempted to climb to her shoulder.

  She didn’t even notice his weight.

  He fought to shake her shoulder. “Quiet down, noodle brain. Setoyans don’t raise horses. We certainly don’t eat them. We don’t even ride them.”

  She ignored him.

  Tsai’dona stood and kicked the back of his turybird’s knee.

  Lorel thudded into her chair.

  Viper slipped off her arm and landed on his back flat on the floor. His head bounced off the tile. Brains sloshed around inside his skull. Bright lights flashed through the restaurant.

  Nothing new about any of it, not when dealing with Lorel. He didn’t have time to worry about a fractured skull. He had to stop her before she did something really irritating.

  He struggled to sit up.

  Lorel glared at Tsai’dona, stunned, but ready to fight. “Why’d you do that? I ain’t done nothing yet. But I’m gonna!”

  The headwaiter charged toward their table.

  Viper wobbled upright and squeezed the turybird’s upper arm with both hands. Should he risk using a spell? What kind of magic would have the slightest effect? He couldn’t think of anything that might slow down his charging-bahtdor noodle-brained friend.

  Blast. He was too drunk to concentrate on a spell, even if he could think of one. What could he do?

  Jroduin held up one finger. “Please remove this course, Maitredeh.”

  Lorel blinked, but leaned back. She grabbed her glass of red wine and chugged it. Then she grabbed his glass and guzzled it, too.

  Viper smothered a groan and slid back into his chair.

  Bess and Tsai’dona let out long sighs.

  Attendants whisked the untouched plates away so fast they seemed to use magic.

  Lorel frowned into her wine glass. His glass, actually, not that he wanted it back. His turybird’s reaction was thoroughly mindboggling. He’d never seen anyone quiet Lorel so quickly or quietly. Jroduin was the most marvelous person he’d ever met.

  The wine steward carried out a large marble bottle. Condensation dripped down its sides.

  Only one set of glasses were left. Didn’t that mean this was the last bottle of wine? But it was a huge bottle, and the glasses were enormous. He’d never be able to walk back to the wagon if he drank one more ounce of alcohol. He’d have to hire a carriage. And have it wait while he brought back enough money to buy this whole building. He’d lost track of the number of bottles they’d drained.

  The wine steward announced, “Snowmelt from the Moralakarakara glacier.” He sloshed liquid into Lorel’s glass.

  The turybird blinked at him. “Snowmelt? Ain’t that just water?”

  “Bless the Seven Temples,” Tsai’dona breathed. She turned and slugged Lorel in the ribs. “Bodyguards don’t talk.”

  “You talk more than I do.” Lorel drained her glass and grinned at the steward. “Could I have more? Please?”

  The man bowed from the neck and refilled her glass before moving on to Tsai’dona and Bess.

  Tsai’dona drained her glass almost as quickly as his turybird had. The steward refilled it immediately.

  Bess peered into her glass and hiccoughed.

  More tiny bowls appeared on the table. Where had those come from?

  The waiter hovering behind him whispered, “A potage of seahorse in aspic.” He leaned toward Lorel. “It’s a type of fish, not a type of horse.”

  Lorel snorted. “I know that. What’s pot-tage?”

  “What’s aspic?” Tsai’dona muttered.

  “Potage is soup.” Viper thought for a moment. His head ached and was full of purple-striped pink fog. But he finally remembered. “And aspic is sort of like jelly without sugar.”

  Tsai’dona frowned into her bowl. “Seahorse jelly?”

  Lorel thunked her bowl with her fingernail. “Who makes jelly without sugar?”

  Bess tittered.

  Jroduin cleared her throat.

  Only one spoon left in front of him. At least he couldn’t choose the wrong one. The potage wasn’t bad. Rather like seaweed boiled down to slime. He’d eaten worse.

  Bess pushed her bowl over to Tsai’dona, who pushed both of their bowls to Lorel.

  His Gyrfalcon dipped her spoon in warily. Tasted the potage. Wrinkled her lip. “I ain’t sure I’m hungry enough to eat this crap.”

  Jroduin reached for her water glass.

  Viper shrugged. “It’ll fill up the corners.”

  Lorel huffed, but slurped down the contents of all three bowls in quick succession.

  Jroduin snorted ice water out of her nose.

  Oh, no! What had caused that reaction? He patted her back awkwardly and offered his damp handkerchief.

  Attendants dashed in with towels and dry handkerchiefs. The slowest man handed his hankie to Viper and, using only his fingertips, carried the old one away.

  Jroduin accepted a towel and two handkerchiefs, and waved the serving staff off.

  Bess hiccoughed. “You all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Jroduin dried her face and jacket front. “I was simply surprised.” She gestured to a hovering waiter. “Please remove this course.”

  The swarm darted in and out again.

  The room swam. Viper battled to steady his vision. He wasn’t drunk. Really. As long as nobody brought more wine, he’d be fine.

  The wine steward approached the table.

  Viper fought down a groan. He was sunk into an abuelo snake’s sinkhole. He’d never pass as sober now.

  But the steward wasn’t carrying anything. Instead five servers approached, each carrying a glass teacup with steam rising from it.

  Vanilla-scented steam. The aromas of smoky licorice and chocolate floated to his nostrils. “Cha! Real Erchan cha!”

  Jroduin lifted her teacup in his direction.

  He returned the toast and breathed in the heavenly smells. Perfect.

  Bess’s mouth dropped open. She peered into her cup as if a mermaid floated inside. “I’ve never tasted cha.”

  And she wouldn’t remember tasting it tomorrow morning. It wasn’t fair. He’d buy her another glass of it before they left Shi.

  Lorel sipped from her teacup and puckered her lips. “This is the stuff you’ve been fussing about all these years?” She pushed her cup toward him.

  Tsai’dona slid her cup over to Bess.

  Jroduin cleared her throat.

  Lorel turned toward the kitchen. “Ain’t they gonna bring us a sweetie?”

  Viper closed his eyes. His face burned. Only his turybird.

  Jroduin gaped at her for a moment. Her pale face grew pink.

  That finished his budding romance. She’d never speak to him again. Never want to see him again. She’d avoid him forever.

 
; She threw back her head and laughed.

  A passing server dropped his tray.

  The headwaiter bumped into a table.

  Three cooks charged out of the kitchen.

  Jroduin crooked a finger.

  All five men scampered over to her and bowed.

  “We would enjoy a sweet but simple conclusion to this wonderful meal,” she murmured.

  Both waiters bowed again. The chefs looked outraged, but the headwaiter dragged them away.

  Jroduin turned back to Viper. “I haven’t laughed so hard in years. I have enormously enjoyed your company. Could we meet again tomorrow?”

  She wanted to see him again. After all their weirdness? He couldn’t believe his luck.

  He nodded as decorously as he could, given the wobble in his neck.

  “I’ll meet you here at the thirteenth bell.” She stood and looked at the headwaiter. “Maitredeh, please see that these kind people enjoy their sweet. Put the bill on my tab.”

  She was paying for their meals? Wait, that wasn’t right.

  Jroduin smiled at him and walked away.

  His knees melted. He’d have fallen if he’d been standing up. He should have stood up when she did. He was such a lump.

  He turned to the headwaiter. “Perhaps we should leave, too.”

  Maitredeh crossed his arms. “My lady ordered dessert. You shall remain until it arrives. Afterwards, I don’t care.”

  Well, it wasn’t really a problem. It would take Lorel all of thirty seconds to demolish all five desserts.

  It took her three whole minutes. Viper thought they’d never get out of the hoity-toity joint. But he left a large tip on the table, in case Jroduin wanted to meet him here again.

  All nineteen attendants bowed graciously to him as he staggered out of the dining room. He suspected they were mocking him. It didn’t matter.

  She enjoyed his company. She wanted to see him tomorrow.

  He couldn’t wait to be with his true love again.

  Chapter 13.

  At daybreak the kid, Weaver bless his pointy blond head, dragged them out of the inn, into the wagon, and fussed at them – mostly at her – for the rest of the morning. “Wash your hands. Put on your best jacket. Not that jacket, the other one. Polish your boots. Not with the backs of your trousers, bahtdor bait. With shoe polish and a rag.”

  He was taking this meeting way too seriously. It wasn’t even a date. Not a real date. But he was making out like he’d fallen for the washed-out piece of linen. He couldn’t really be in love, could he?

  And here she’d started thinking he liked guys better than girls.

  Kyri (poor snake couldn’t leave the wagon in the daytime) hid under a blanket. Bess and Tsai escaped outside the first time his back was turned. She’d bet they were in the common room, eating hot-crossed buns and guzzling beer.

  Well, maybe not beer. Tsai didn’t much care for it, and Bess was so hungover she walked all hunched over. Tea, maybe. They could have her share of tasteless tea.

  The kid shoved his hands on his hips. “Why is that thing on my bed again?”

  What thing? It was just the slithering toad up there. And Izzy, but the kid never ever called Izzy bad names. But Baby Bear sat up there, too, grinning down at him.

  Weaver’s chamberpot. Was he mad at Baby again? “You want her down here getting hair on your pretty clothes?”

  That shut him up. For a minute or three. He checked his fancy new duds for serdil fur. “I suppose not.”

  Sing to the Weaver. He sounded calmer now. She hated to bring it up, but– “When is thirteenth bell, anyway?”

  “An hour after noon.” He glared up at her. “Just like in Zedista.”

  “Right.” She’d never much paid attention to the hour, except while she worked for Faye. Even then she forgot sometimes. “Since we started traveling, I sorta lost track of all that stuff.”

  The kid sighed.

  “Besides, you keep good track for all of us.” Better than she liked him to. “Hold on! You got us started at dawn, and we ain’t gonna meet her until afternoon? I gotta stay fancied up for three more hours? You little turd!”

  He grinned at her. “It leaves three hours for lunch.”

  She might forgive him if he really gave her a long, leisurely lunch. “Watch Baby for me, will you, toad?”

  The wiggler poked its head out from under the blanket. “This one shall accommodate the anchor to its utmost capacity.”

  Longwinded worm. “What’d it say?”

  The kid sighed louder and clambered out of the wagon.

  She got a long lunch, sure enough. An endless lunch. The stinky limp thread nagged her the whole time about keeping her clothes clean. Who cared about a few drops of spilled food?

  It was a relief to go meet with the washed-out linen once the kid finally decided it was time to leave.

  Except Bess didn’t look ready to go. Poor old lady looked so hungover a whole barrel of beer wouldn’t set her right.

  Even the kid noticed. “Are you ill? Do you want us to stay with you? I can send a message to Jroduin.”

  Bess waved one limp hand. “I’m only a little worn out, pet. You children run along and have fun. You should be safe now.”

  “Safe?” The kid’s eyebrows went down so far they crossed. “Why?”

  Because a fraying noble piece of linen was moseying around with them, Loom lint. She’d have a bunch of bodyguards with her. But the kid’d never believe it until he saw it. The boy was way too trusting.

  Bess’s hand drifted to her throat. “I’m going back to my room and lie down. Do come wake me after you get back.”

  Poor old lady looked green, like she’d puke right there in the common room. Lorel hadn’t seen a hangover that bad since Mom got sozzled on Kerovi brandy.

  The kid stared at Bess’s retreating back. “What’s wrong with her? Why does she think we’re safer than before?”

  Silly innocent noodle brain.

  Tsai grinned, but tried to hide it by turning away.

  “Don’t worry, kid. We ain’t none gonna let down our guard. We’ll protect you.” From the washed-out scrap of linen, too, if she could.

  Tsai put on her warrior face and nodded.

  The Fat Duck place was a couple dozen blocks away. The kid limped along just as fast as he could. Good thing they’d started out nearly an hour early.

  It took everything she had to walk as slow as him. To not scoop him up and carry him the whole way. He’d never, ever forgive her if she did.

  But he was panting louder than a blacksmith’s bellows and sweating wetter than a cheese left out in the sun by the time they reached the Fat Duck.

  As soon as they got there, a footman handed Jroduin, who wore a long white jacket with a lynx-lined hood over a full white skirt, out of a smallish phaeton drawn by a matched pair of grays. Lovely horses, but barely big enough for even Tsai to ride. Lorel’s feet would drag on the ground up to her knees.

  “Praise the Thunderer,” the kid muttered. “I was afraid we’d be late.” He yanked a hankie out of his pocket and wiped his face – and his palms – before toddling over to the phaeton. “Good day, Jroduin.” He bowed over her hand.

  Weaver’s chamberpot, cut the mushy stuff. But she didn’t dare say anything.

  Tsai glared at her for a moment, but nodded.

  Hey, she had plenty of bruises from that little sharp elbow. She weren’t gonna say one word.

  Jroduin looked younger in the daylight than she had last night. Maybe only eighteen instead of thirty. Awful close to her own age, come to think of it. Plenty young to make the kid to think he had a chance with her. The little speck of Loom lint had fallen of the Shuttle if he thought a fancy piece of bleached linen would pay any attention to him.

  But the kid stared at her like all seven moons rose in her eyes.

  The washed-out linen wrapped her elbow around the kid’s, and together they limped up the street.

  Tsai looked around and frowned.

  Lo
rel waggled her eyebrows at the girl, but had to admit she was surprised, too. No bodyguards in sight, except the two of them. Even the coachman and footman didn’t bother to follow them. The carriage clattered off down the road.

  Was it possible Jroduin wasn’t noble? She could be gentry. A merchant’s daughter would have a bunch of guards, just to show off Daddy’s wealth. But everything about her screamed noble, even higher rank than Faye.

  No point in worrying about it. She lengthened her stride to get closer to the kid and the linen.

  Tsai hung back about twenty steps. Good tactical position, like they’d been taught at the sword school.

  Jroduin led them out of the food district, sing to the Weaver. All the smells were pushing her off the Shuttle. Her poor abused tummy started growling again. At least nobody was nearby to hear it.

  As they walked, the close-built shops opened into big old houses on one side of the street. The other side looked like the backs of warehouses. This gotta be where the rich merchants lived.

  It finally got quiet enough she could hear the kid and the linen talking. And sorta wished she couldn’t.

  The linen leaned her furry hood close to the kid’s ear. “Are you certain those two aren’t spies working against the Empire?”

  The kid laughed. “I’ve known Lorel forever, and Tsai’dona for well over a year. I’ll wager my life they’re uninterested in politics.”

  The linen piece snuck a quick look back.

  The kid patted her hand. “Lorel would slug anyone who tried to talk her into doing something immoral. If she began to understand what they were talking about. All she cares about is fighting.”

  Lorel snorted. She cared about lots more than that. Baby Bear, for a start. Her swords. Her honor.

  He glanced back and grinned at her. “She’s the perfect bodyguard.”

  The noodle brain thought she was perfect? First she’d heard about it. Most of the time he was nagging at her.

  The linen tilted her head. “How so?”

  They wandered past a surprisingly clean alley. Unnervingly clean, really. Alleys in Zedista were always full of crap, even in the nobleman’s district. And this was only the merchant’s district. There oughta be crates and boxes out, either ready to be picked up (those would be guarded) or full of junk (that nobody would bother to steal).