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

by D J Salisbury

  Did the linen live in a hotel? Or a prison? Or a nobleman’s madhouse?

  Tsai’s eyes got huge. “I think we’re outclassed again.”

  Jroduin’s voice drifted forward, sounding sorta weak. “It may be better if we enter by the Imperial Street portico. Fewer stairs.”

  Lorel twitched the horses to a halt and looked back at her. What on the Loom was a portico?

  The coachman coughed. “Perhaps the Healer’s portico?”

  “Oh. Yes.” The washed-out linen was hugging the kid so tight they might’ve grown together.

  Except the kid looked out cold.

  She better get him help, fast. “Where’s the healers at?”

  The footman jumped down, trotted up to the team, and led them forward at a quick pace.

  Lorel let the reins hang loose. If that guy could get the kid to a healer sooner, she weren’t gonna battle for control.

  But what kinda hotel kept a healer on staff? Maybe it was a madhouse for rich people.

  Not a problem. Her and Tsai still had their swords. If they had to fight their way out of a madhouse, they would. Gimpy legs and all.

  The little footman trotted. And trotted. And trotted. It seemed farther to the side of the building than it was to get from here back to the merchant’s district. How big was this madhouse, anyway?

  But finally they reached a covered throughway with white stone columns and stairs on one side. The other side was more grim granite and a pair of red-enamel doors with big windows. A dozen unlit lamps perched on hooks drilled into the side of building.

  Looked kinda weird for a madhouse. Cheerful, even, with them red doors. In fact, now it looked more like a brothel.

  A dozen people poured out of the double doors.

  “How many injured?” a skinny woman asked.

  “All four of them.” The coachman strutted to the phaeton’s side and raised his hand. “May I help you down, my lady?”

  The skinny woman pushed him out of the way and scowled into the carriage. “How much blood is theirs? None? But they both show signs of concussion. Bring two stretchers.” She stepped back toward the building.

  Four beefy men with padded boards trooped forward. Three others eased the kid and the linen out of the phaeton and strapped them onto the boards.

  The stretcher bearers marched – surprisingly smoothly – back through the door.

  The skinny woman whirled and frowned at Tsai and Lorel. “How badly are you hurt?”

  With most of the blood on them halfway dried out, it oughta be obvious they weren’t bad off. “Just scratched.”

  Tsai nodded, but she looked mighty wobbly.

  “Another stretcher,” the woman snapped, and waited while Tsai was handed down and carried off.

  Finally she turned back to Lorel. “I hope you can walk. You’re too big to fit on a stretcher.”

  “Nicest thing anybody’s said in ages.” At least, she hoped the woman wasn’t complaining.

  The woman – must be a healer, as bossy as she was – tilted her head. Her face softened. “Why don’t you come down from there and we’ll see how well you can move.”

  Move? Oh, yeah. She was still sitting on the driver’s bench. No, the coachbox, Loom lint.

  The healer tapped her toe on the paving. “Come here.”

  Come? Woops, she hadn’t moved yet. She lowered herself to the ground.

  The blood-woven paving stones wouldn’t hold still.

  The healer jumped out of the way.

  Three big guys – for Nasties – rushed forward and helped her stay upright. She patted the shoulder of the one to her right. “Thanks, fellas. I just need a mug of beer and I’ll be fine.”

  The healer grinned like a little kid who’d won the hoop toss. “I suspect you’re right. Follow me and we’ll look for some beer.”

  Really? Her feet moved lots better all the sudden. Still took all three guys to keep her balanced, though, one on each side and one tugging on her sword belt.

  “Where’s the kid?”

  The healer nearly ran into the wall. She stared up with a shocked look on her face. “You can’t call her–”

  The footman hustled up from the rear. “She means the young man.”

  “The child?” The healer smiled again. “You can see him as soon as your injuries are dealt with.”

  Child? Fourteen wasn’t that young. No wonder the kid hated being short.

  The woman led her into a room and made her sit on a table. Somebody else came in and cut off the rags and her trouser leg. A different one came in, stitched up her cuts, then sat and scowled at them for a while. That one must be a real healer.

  What happened to the woman who promised her a beer?

  A couple of guys talked her into lying on a bed outside the kid’s room. Next thing she knew, it was morning.

  Tsai harassed her into drinking some herbal tea crap.

  She never got her beer until lunchtime. Everybody knows beer builds blood back up lots better than tea.

  The kid slept and slept. And slept. Until she worried he’d never wake up.

  Chapter 14.

  The healers demanded Viper stay in bed for three days. He could hear Lorel and Tsai’dona playing cards in the next room for most of that time. Didn’t they ever get tired of gambling over matchsticks? Or had they moved up to farthings? Or, beggars, rather, since that was the smallest coin in Shi.

  Bess had visited daily to reassure Lorel that her captive serdil cub was safe and thriving, though she claimed the beast missed the turybird. As if a monster could miss anyone. And she’d whispered to him that she was feeding Kyri, who refused to leave the wagon.

  Really, Shi wasn’t that dangerous.

  He touched the bandage on his head. Well, maybe it was.

  A wooly robe hung over the chair beside his bed. He dragged it over his nightshirt, staggered to the door, and stuck his head into the antechamber. “Where’s Jroduin?”

  Lorel frowned at him. “I told you yesterday. Them healers let her go off to her own room. Said she’d heal up quicker there.”

  Which made sense. More than his turybird usually did.

  Tsai’dona put down her cards, stood slowly – the bulky bandages on her thigh showed clearly through her nightgown and open robe – and limped over to him. “Are you supposed to be out of bed?”

  Lorel peeked at Tsai’dona’s cards, but dropped them after he frowned at her. “Go put your boots on, Loom lint. It’s really creepy when you walk on your stump.”

  Oh. He hadn’t even noticed. And he couldn’t see his boots inside his room. Or his clothes, either.

  Even Lorel and Tsai’dona wore robes over long lacy nightgowns. Well, Tsai’dona’s gown was lacy. Lorel’s was a cotton tent, and it still barely covered her knees.

  “Where are our clothes?” He couldn’t believe Lorel was wandering around in such an awkward garment. Not willingly.

  Lorel shrugged. “Somebody promised to bring them soon.” She dropped a card in the discard pile and pulled two off the top of the deck.

  “One card at a time, bahtdor bait.”

  Tsai’dona snickered. “She’s losing so badly I don’t complain if she cheats a little.”

  “Hey, I ain’t cheating.” The turybird studied her cards a moment, but dumped the lot on the discard pile. “Or I ain’t cheating enough.”

  Tsai’dona laughed aloud.

  He laughed with her. It felt good after three days of holding still and silent in hope of warding off the headache.

  Right now he felt surprisingly good. Jroduin had talented healers.

  A young woman holding a tall pile of clothes strolled into the room. “These should fit you.” She nodded at Lorel. “Even you. I’ve never seen trousers this long in my life.”

  Lorel tried to snatch them out of her hands, but couldn’t quite reach her victim while sitting across the table. “Give!”

  The servant – he assumed she was part of Jroduin’s house staff – backed away and set the pile on a side
table. She handed the top few garments to him.

  Black wool trousers, a white linen shirt, a teal-blue jacket, plus assorted underclothing. He’d look quite sharp in these. But– “Where are my clothes?”

  Lorel snorted. “Covered in blood and full of holes from where you hit the wall or skidded on the paving stones.”

  Tsai’dona nodded. “Ours look even worse.”

  “Yours should. You two were fighting.” Wait a minute. “Why didn’t Bess bring us a change of clothing?”

  The servant handed Tsai’dona a set of clothing. “She did, but my lady sent word she was to take them back.” She handed Lorel the other half of the pile, the largest part by far. “My lady said you had saved her life, and the least she owed you was replacements for your damaged clothing.”

  Both girls’ outfits resembled the uniforms they’d worn the day of the attack. A whole herd of seamstresses must have been busy for all three days to get them finished so quickly.

  Lorel shooed him back into his room. “Get lost, kid, unless you wanna watch us shimmy outta our nighties.” She wiggled her hips.

  Thunderer protect him. Her idea of shimmying reminded him of a five-masted ship shuddering out of the harbor.

  Both girls laughed.

  “Ain’t never seen you look so discombobulated, kid.”

  Good thing she couldn’t see what he was thinking.

  The servant bowed her way out of the room before he closed his door.

  The trousers and shirt fit perfectly. The teal jacket was of a fabric so thick and luscious, he wanted to sit and stroke it.

  Silk. Pure raw silk, imported from Ercha, he was sure. The back was embroidered in cream silk with a stylized (and entirely inaccurate) dragon in flight, the front with a pair of sleeping dragons. The inside was lined with pockets. There were even pockets inside the sleeves.

  Finally he put it on and marched to the door. The girls should be dressed by now.

  They were, and were back at the table playing cards.

  Lorel grinned at him. “Ain’t you the little peacock. Just the right color to play the peacock, even. All embroidered like a peacock, too.”

  “This isn’t peacock, it’s teal.”

  Tsai’dona rolled her eyes. “You haven’t met as many peacocks as we have.”

  Before they could properly gang up on him, another servant entered the room. This one was carrying their boots.

  “About time.” Lorel snatched her pony carts out of the woman’s hand.

  Tsai’dona sat back in her chair to pull her boots on.

  The servant crept up to him. “Do you need assistance, sir?”

  Assistance? For what? To put on one boot? The padded one slipped on easily. “No, thank you.” He leaned against the wall and tugged both boots on.

  “My lady sent word she awaits your company.”

  Oh. That’s why this one was acting oddly. “Please lead the way.”

  The young woman nodded solemnly and pointed out the door to another servant waiting in the corridor.

  Lorel marched to the doorway and scowled at the young man.

  The servant grinned at her and bowed. “Sir and ladies, I am to guide you.”

  “Well? Get on with it.” She mumbled under her breath, “Slow poke.”

  Please the Thunderer, let the guide walk slowly, and allow him keep up. Lorel wouldn’t unless he or Tsai’dona reminded her.

  Today Tsai’dona was limping worse than he ever had.

  Their guide slowed his gait accordingly. He led them through a maze of hallways and ornate rooms. Huge paintings of questionable taste decorated the walls. Statues of naked women filled up the corners.

  What was this place? He hadn’t realized it was enormous. Could it be a hotel? Or a hospital?

  His foot insisted they’d walked several miles before the servant bowed them into a book-lined room. Now, these were decorations he could appreciate.

  Tsai’dona appeared worried.

  Lorel looked bored.

  “Greetings, my friends.” Jroduin closed her book and placed it on the ebony table. “Come, it’s time I kept my promise.”

  The servant bowed again and left.

  Viper craned his neck to see the title of the book. Administrative Justice. What an odd choice.

  Jroduin led them out of the room and preceded them down the hall.

  “More walking?” Lorel shoved her hands on her hips, though she didn’t stop moving. “We’ve walked halfway to Zedista already. How big is this place?”

  “It isn’t particularly big. The prankster must have given you a tour.” Jroduin stopped and levered open a heavy door with her hip. “Warrior, is this more to your liking?”

  Viper peered through the doorway and sighed. Yes, he’d be very bored today.

  ∞∞∞

  Lorel stood in the doorway and gawked.

  Weapons lined the walls. Swords, axes, pikes, forked thingies like the kid’s, but with long handles. Thousands of weapons, almost as many as in the North Tower at the sword school. Some of them looked ancient, but mostly they were new and downright dangerous. Most were made of bronze, but a fair few were made of Crayl steel.

  Armor on stands filled up one wall. Boiled-leather cuirasses, chainmail with different types of links, even a few sets made of Crayl steel plates. Who was so stupid they’d wear plate armor? Only a coward would want to.

  Weapons, armor, and soldiers. Over thirty hard-eyed men and women were scattered through the room, some polishing swords, others mending armor. They all stood and bowed stiffly to Jroduin. A bunch of them glared at Lorel. They all ignored the kid and Tsai.

  “Dondarik,” Jroduin called. “I’ve brought the warrior I described to you.”

  A dark-haired man almost as tall as Lorel sauntered through the far door. He looked her over and grinned. “You described her well, my lady. Proud to meet you, shield maiden.”

  “Shield maiden? Go shove yourself in a chamber pot.” Lorel planted her hands on her hips. “If you can’t call me warrior, don’t waste my time. Same for Tsai.”

  Tsai closed her gaping mouth, put on her best warrior face, and nodded.

  The group laughed and clapped. The hostility she’d felt dissolved.

  “Well said, warrior.” Dondarik bowed and motioned her forward. “My lady arranged a gift for you.” He stepped back into the room behind him and came out a moment later carrying a length of silvery mesh.

  Lorel gasped and strode forward. She halted several paces away and stared at the shining links. She’d seen drawings of welkinstele chainmail in the book the kid bought her, but she never dreamed she’d see it in person.

  Welkinstele. Lighter than hard-boiled leather, stronger than Crayl steel that was ten times as thick. The stuff of heroes’ tales and magicians’ legends. According to the kid’s book, it cost more than five hundred sets of plate armor.

  Where’d Jroduin get the coin for it? Could she be royalty? No, lots of nobles had tons more money than they had good sense. Giving away welkinstele just proved Jroduin was one of them.

  Another man (she missed his name, her head was so full of welkinstele chainmail) waved Tsai over to him.

  “Take off your jacket, girl.” Dondarik shook the mesh, making it jingle. “Sword belt, too. This fits under the bulk, not over it.”

  This couldn’t be happening. It had to be a dream. But it wasn’t a dream she wanted to wake up from.

  She unbuckled her belt and laid her swords on the nearest bench. She stripped off her jacket, dropped it on the floor, and stood shivering in her linen shirt.

  Dondarik pulled open one edge of the mesh and grinned at her. “Stick you head in here, black-fire warrior.”

  She started to obey, but hesitated. “Whatcha mean, ‘black fire’?”

  He winked at her. “The color of your hair. Black, with fire in it.” He shook the mail. “Come on.”

  Silly flirt. But she could ignore his chatter. She put her head in the opening.

  Metal clinked as he settled
the mesh on her shoulders, and guided her hands into the armholes and through the sleeves. “Hold up your arms.”

  Her arms shot straight up over her head.

  “Slow down, girl.” Dondarik laughed. “Hold them out here.” He pushed her arms down level with her shoulders. “Now be still.”

  He fussed with the lacings on each side of her ribs, tightening at the waist, loosening at the tits. He adjusted the laces at her shoulders and stepped back. “Put your arms down.”

  Cold welkinstele heated her skin while he studied her. Metal jingled as she shivered. Wasn’t cold in here, but she couldn’t hold still.

  He walked once around her, examining the mail shirt critically. “Would you care to indulge in a bit of sword practice with me?”

  Her heart near to exploded with joy.

  ∞∞∞

  Viper grinned, though he tried to hide it. That soldier was admiring more than the chainmail. He had to agree. Lorel was surprisingly impressive in the mesh shirt. It clung to her body like a second skin, emphasizing every curve.

  She had a lot more curves than he remembered. Her torso shone silver from neck to mid-thigh, and each breath caused the mesh to shimmer, drawing the eye.

  “It fits,” Lorel whispered. “I tried mail on before, but it always pinched or hung like a lead sack. This really fits!”

  “It ought to, Blackfire,” Dondarik said dryly. “Never undo the side laces, unless you change shape. Always use the shoulder lace and draw the shirt over your head, even if it seems more difficult.”

  Lorel nodded dutifully, but clearly her mind was elsewhere. She ran her hands over the silver mesh.

  Tsai’dona stood staring down at her own chainmail as if she couldn’t believe it was real.

  Viper grinned and turned to Jroduin. “They’re speechless. You’ll never get a higher compliment out of either of them.”

  Jroduin chuckled. “They are treasures, certainly.” She turned to look into his eyes. “We could not find a mail shirt of a size to fit you.”

  “I’m much happier with this handsome jacket.” Warmth spread through his chest and face, and it had nothing to do with his clothing. He smiled up at her. “I’m not sufficiently warlike to put up with chainmail.”