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

by D J Salisbury

  A couple of men guided his crew to the armory wall and started babbling about the weapons.

  Both Lorel and Tsai’dona perked up and chattered back.

  “I think we’ve bored you adequately.” Jroduin linked her arm with his. “Would you care to visit my library?”

  “Definitely!” He followed her out of the armory and back to the chamber where they’d first seen her.

  “This is my private apartment,” Jroduin said as they entered the room.

  He glanced at the book laying on the ebony table. Administrative Justice. Such dry reading. The book on the side table was entitled Elements of Just Governance. Another deep subject of no interest.

  Jroduin must have noticed his distaste. She opened the far door and smiled. “Do any of these titles appeal to you?”

  He poked his head in the room, froze, and slowly walked to the center. “Light a candle to the Wind Dancer! I’ve never seen this many books outside of Dureme-Lor’s main library.” Or Trevor’s library, but he couldn’t tell her so. If only Kyri trusted him more.

  Jroduin’s green eyes twinkled. “I’ve been collecting for years. I hope to someday be in a position to patronize scholars.”

  “You’re thundering close now, if you want to open a lending library.” Most of the titles suggested mathematics, administration, or history, but one large section appeared to be treatises on magic. “Are you a student of magic?”

  “No. I’ve no talent.” She looked at him oddly. “What made you think that? Oh, those. No. I simply have many wizard friends, and they bring me such books. Who knows, perhaps I can patronize the academy eventually.”

  What academy? But he didn’t want to break the mood. “I thought you already did.” Now that didn’t make any sense. But she seemed content with his comment.

  “Sadly, no.” She limped to a cabinet. “I’m merely a younger daughter with no funds of my own. I often represent my father at the academy, however. They treat me with more respect than I’ve earned.”

  “I see.” He went back to admiring, and lusting for, the shelves of books.

  “May I offer you a brandy?” Jroduin looked at him for agreement, and poured two drinks. “Come, sit with me.” She handed him a snifter and settled into an overstuffed chair.

  “Thanks.” He perched on the edge of the other chair and sipped his brandy. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get as drunk as the first time he met her. She’d hate it if he did, he was sure. She liked her men in control of themselves.

  “You are a little bird preparing to fly away.”

  “Sorry.” Trevor used to accuse him of perching like a bird, and had worked hard to break his habit. But Trevor died a long time ago.

  She chuckled and glanced at him through her lashes. “Sit back and relax.” She smiled and shifted slightly, catching his gaze. “Relax. Tell me about yourself. I know so little about you.”

  He looked into those deep, beautiful eyes and felt the room spin around him. Haunting, innocent, extraordinary eyes. Eyes as cool as a refreshing lake, deep and fathomless. Eyes as warm as spring, full of promise and growth. “I was born on the Setoyan plain.” He leaned back into the leather chair and sipped at the smooth brandy. “Setoya would fascinate you, I think, but you’d hate it, too.”

  They talked for hours, about everything. Almost everything. He always remembered to leave out any mention of magic, cursing Kyri each time he did.

  They compared lives, so different, so alike. He felt the he’d known her all of his life, and he wanted to know her for the rest of it.

  Would Lorel consider staying in Shi? There wasn’t any place else in the world he needed to be.

  ∞∞∞

  Dondarik touched her cheek, breaking into her joy. “Would you be interested in learning Shi’s style of sword work, Blackfire?”

  “Would I?” Lorel looked directly at him for the first time. For a Nasty, he was pretty good-looking. And he was nearly as tall as her. “Weaver’s sweet bones, you know I am.”

  “Would you allow me to be your teacher?” He bowed like he really respected her.

  “That would be wild!” Lorel punched his shoulder. “I’d love for you to teach me. I mean, I’d be honored. I mean – Sing to the Weaver, did you hear him, Tsai?”

  The other warriors laughed at her. A few hooted catcalls, but she ignored them all. No way was she gonna mess up a chance to learn a new way of fighting. She might get to take on that slaver again. She’d show him what she thought of anybody messing with the kid.

  “I heard.” Tsai bowed to Dondarik. “Thank you. I think. Now she’ll be impossible to live with.”

  “You’re just jealous.” Lorel turned to Dondarik. “Can we start now?”

  “Certainly. There should be room in the practice yard.” He jerked his thumb toward the far end of the room. “Wooden swords are down there. I don’t give lessons with sharpened blades.”

  Coward. But she never said it out loud. He didn’t know she was plenty good at pulling her strikes. But she’d show him right quick.

  A girl warrior strolled up to Tsai and nodded to the wooden swords. Good, Tsai’d get lessons, too. They’d be able to practice together and compare moves.

  Still talking shop, (bitter blood, that man could chatter) Dondarik led Lorel into the practice yard.

  Chapter 15.

  His rear end was going asleep again. Viper pushed a pile of toys aside and shifted his position on the wagon’s floor, but he wasn’t ready to give up yet. Not even with piles and piles of worthless books besieging him.

  The bookseller’s crate had been full of disappointment. Ancient rain records. Cattle-birthing records (a two-headed calf? That was mildly interesting), wool output. No wonder these books hadn’t sold.

  So far, he’d only set aside twenty-seven tomes he wanted to keep.

  “Where am I going to store the useless books?” He leaned back and gazed up at his own bunk, where Kyri was watching him. As was the blasted serdil cub, but he’d ignore the monster as long as it stayed away from his books.

  “This one recommends conserving them to ignite the stove. The hatchling’s magic is unacceptably erratic for use inside this conveyance.”

  “Burn books?!? Has Lorel driven you insane?” Lorel or the blasted cub, but Kyri seemed to enjoy the little monster’s companionship. Not truly little, these days, but still a bumbling sand lizard, all the same.

  “This one is as sane as circumstances allow. The hatching might donate the books to a city library. Bureaucrats find significance in statistical data.”

  A good idea. And he could store the books the library wouldn’t take under his mattress, if he had to.

  He laid a copy of Wildflowers of Melad and of Unusual Creatures of Western Nashidra on Lorel’s bunk. Both books were reasonably new, written less than two hundred years ago.

  “I want to tell Jroduin the real reason we’re here.” He dug deeper into the box and sneezed. “I think she’d be a valuable ally.”

  “The hatchling must not divulge the quest.” The serpent swung its snout below the level of his mattress. “All within in this metropolis are suspect. If the hatchling’s confederate is meritorious, the knowledge would consign it to grave jeopardy.”

  “I’d be putting her in danger?” He certainly didn’t want to risk her. He’d protect Jroduin, no matter what. “How?”

  “Should the confederate attempt to recruit a collaborator who is dominated by the enemy, the confederate would be destroyed.”

  “To prevent her from telling anyone else.” He leaned his head against the overcrowded bookshelf and sighed. “I see your logic. I wish I could tell her the truth. I hate lying to her.”

  “This one also prefers to avoid fabrications.” Kyri lifted its head back to the bunk and used its snout to push the blasted cub farther back on the mattress. “However, the hatchling controls inadequate magic to preserve itself. It could not defend the confederate.”

  “How about Lorel?” He sat up and looked into the serpent’s stran
ge blue eyes. “Can I defend her?”

  “The anchor has magic of its own.” Kyri dipped its head in what passed as a shrug. “Even this one could not destroy the anchor. This one had on no occasion proved deficient antecedent to aforementioned encounter. This one endeavors to ascertain the disposition of the anchor’s magic even yet.”

  He grinned while he dug through the box again. “Most of it is the Weaver’s own luck. Hey, look! A copy of Religious Ceremonies Practiced on Feda.” He riffled through the pages. “Hmm. I wouldn’t care to get tossed into their Pit. The drawings of the victim’s remains are gruesome.”

  In the far corner of the crate he unearthed a shabby, slender, maroon-leather book with tattered edges. “This one looks interesting. A diary, maybe?”

  He opened the little book. “Blast. It seems to be another grimoire.” Could this book hold entrapment spells like RedAdder’s had? He still occasionally woke up screaming about dead wizard’s attempts to enslave him. His crew didn’t appreciate his nightmares one bit.

  The cub yipped and scrambled across Kyri’s body to the far side of the bunk.

  “But here’s a spell to predict the weather I’ve never seen before.” Not that he’d seen many weather-related spells. Trevor considered weather magic offensive because of the damage they did to natural patterns.

  Izzy hopped to the edge of the mattress and peered down. It looked concerned.

  Thunderer’s dice. What did a leather toy have to worry about?

  Kyri reared up. “Hatchling–”

  Silver mist oozed out of the book and crept toward his nose. Magic eased around his tingling hands.

  “Discontinue!” Kyri yelled.

  Good idea. He slammed the covers together.

  Slowly, the mist dissipated. Silver clung to his hands a bit longer, but eventually that vanished, too.

  Kyri sucked in a long breath. “This one recommends the hatchling consign the grimoire into this one’s custody pending departure from Shi.”

  He wouldn’t mind if Kyri kept it forever. “I’m sure you’re right.” His hands shook when he tossed the book into the serpent’s coils.

  It nudged the grimoire into hiding under its body. “This one has a request.”

  That was rare. “Certainly. Just tell me.”

  “This one beseeches the hatchling to procure supplementary comestibles.” Kyri laid its head flat on the edge of the bunk. “This one determines the locale to be exceptionally hazardous. Soul and flesh predators dominate the nocturnal hours. This one would prefer to maintain its epidermis upon its person.”

  Night monsters had stalked his friend? “Thunderer! Of course I’ll bring you more food.” He’d thought Bess was bringing it. Maybe she couldn’t sneak any in. He stood and stroked the huge head. “I’d rather you kept your hide intact. Will you be safe in here?”

  “The conveyance’s wards are strong. This one is sufficiently safeguarded.”

  “Good. I hope you can put up with fish.” Viper wrinkled his nose. “Rumor has it any red meat may be human.”

  “This one will eat piscine flesh, if necessary.” Kyri lifted its head an inch. “Perhaps the hatchling could bring a fowl?”

  “I’ll find you a chicken, but it’ll probably be cooked.” How was Lorel feeding her monster? At least that wasn’t his problem. “Sneaking it past the stableman should be interesting.”

  “Proceed confidently and none will discern.”

  “You’re no fun.” He climbed up Tsai’dona’s bench to the door. “I’ll raid the kitchen after lunch. Will one chicken be adequate?”

  Kyri nodded slowly. “One fowl will suffice.”

  “Which means you’d rather have two. I’ll work on it.” He crawled through the door, locked it behind him, and clambered down from the driver’s platform.

  And almost landed on the stable master.

  The old man tilted his head. “Are you in the habit of speaking to yourself, sir?”

  What a sandblasted snoop. What could he say that wouldn’t point out he was talking to someone? Like a thirty-foot-long serpent. That would get them kicked out of the inn, and might get Kyri killed.

  The Fedan book offered inspiration. “I was conducting a religious ceremony.” It was lame, but it was the best excuse he could come up with. Time to go on the attack. “Are you in the habit of eavesdropping on your guests? I believe the management would disapprove.”

  The stableman backed up two steps. “No, sir! I only happened to be walking by, sir. Please forgive me.”

  “I require privacy when I read the scriptures.” Viper tossed the man a silver patron and hoped he wasn’t pushing his luck. “Perhaps you could ensure my privacy?”

  “Absolutely, sir! No one will go near your vehicle while you are within.” The old man pocketed the coin and bowed.

  Viper nodded and stalked away. This place could get expensive fast. He needed to get Kyri to listen for spies from now on. Had the man heard anything? Probably not. The wood and layers of starfish were good sound barriers.

  His stomach growled. It must be time to meet his crew for lunch.

  None of the sandcrabs had waited for him. The three women sat at a table littered with plates.

  Tsai’dona’s cheeks turned red and she mouthed, Sorry.

  Bess waved him over. “I’d begun to worry about you, pet.”

  Lorel shrugged, pounded her flagon on the table, and yelled, “Two more birdie pies! And more beer!”

  By the time lunch was over, Viper was in a grand mood. Lunch – with a small glass of wine compared to Lorel’s three tall mugs of beer – was delicious. Kyri expressed a fondness for the dove pies he snuck out to it. Best of all, Lorel made all the arrangements to meet Jroduin without voicing a single complaint.

  His crew was dressed in their best clothing, with no food stains showing. The hired coach was well-sprung, and smelled of leather soap and clean horsehair. The air was crisp and bright, lighting the city until it glowed brighter than molten gold.

  The coach stopped beside the gate of the largest mansion on the hill.

  His glorious mood slithered into the cobblestones.

  Lorel yanked the door open before the coachman could. “Everybody out, slow pokes.”

  The turybird had to be kidding. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  “This is where she took us before, kid. I guess you was too messed up to notice.”

  “Head wounds do that.” Tsai’dona patted his shoulder before she hopped to the ground.

  He shook his head, helped Bess out of the carriage, and paid the coachman. He sighed when the coach rattled down the street. “Getting back to the inn might be challenging.”

  Lorel turned and grinned at the gatekeeper. “Lady Jroduin is waiting for us.”

  The young woman nodded solemnly and unlocked the gate. She ushered them into the gatehouse and pointed to a servant.

  Lorel glowered at the young man. “Not you again.”

  Tsai’dona groaned.

  Bess peered at both girls. “What’s wrong?”

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

  Wasn’t this the same joker who’d led them all over the place yesterday? Him, or his twin brother.

  They were led through a maze of hallways and ornate rooms. Again. Either the house was bigger than Jroduin thought, or this servant was a terrible prankster. Or he was delaying them to allow Jroduin more time to get ready.

  That must be the reason.

  ∞∞∞

  And off the four of them went on another tour of the city. Without no extra guards.

  Hadn’t the washed-out linen learned nothing from getting her head busted? Both the linen and the kid had black eyes, and they both was wearing bandages wrapped around their heads.

  Her and Tsai still had stitches in their legs. Only Bess was in good shape, and the poor old lady already looked beat.

  “Milady’s Rest was built in 173.” Jroduin gestured at some big old fancy hotel. “O
r rather, the original was. This building is the third on this site. The first was built early in Altrada’s reign, and named in her honor.”

  Tsai smothered a yawn.

  The kid gazed at the building like he was interested, but Lorel could tell he was trying to not stare at the linen. The little speck of Loom lint.

  “Who’s Altrada?” Like she didn’t know. Still, it might be interesting to hear the linen’s take on the Nasty goddess.

  “She was one of the greatest rulers of all time.” Jroduin turned and limped down the smooth cobble street. “She created Nashidra by joining three great cities and all the land between.”

  Lorel swaggered closer to the linen. “Altrada was a warrior?” She’d never heard that story. Never even heard she was a real person.

  “No.” Jroduin smiled. “But great warriors swore their lives to her.”

  “She must’ve been worth something then.” Lorel frowned down at the puny scrap of fancy linen. “How come you know so much about her?”

  Jroduin blinked up at her. “Altrada is my ancestor.”

  “Yeah?” The linen was claiming some goddess as her ancestor? What could she say to that without getting the kid mad at her? “She must’ve had a tight thread on the Loom.”

  The kid grinned and winked at Jroduin. “If that doesn’t win the turybird over, nothing could. Except a warrior hero for an ancestor.”

  The washed-out linen almost smiled. “Unfortunately, I don’t have such a person in my lineage.”

  Figured. The kid was right for a change, but the linen let him down. And he didn’t even notice. He kept on staring at her icy white face like the sun rose out of her nose.

  “Where are we headed?” Bess asked.

  “Toward the central market.” Jroduin gestured toward the south. “Through some of the best parts of town, and near some of the worst.”

  “Should be interesting, then.” If she was lucky, they’d see a little action. She readjusted her sword belt to be sure she could reach both swords easily.