Commandment (40 page)

Lakif was pleasantly surprised by the condition of the alchemical laboratory. The place clearly had languished under the weight of time but not of man. Fortunate to their purposes, the cellar had been spared the grievous pummeling that had effaced the church above. She wondered why the so-abhorred laboratory had not been sacked with the same zeal. Was it owing to a secret respect for the heinous concoctions? Or a deep-seated fear to meddle with the alchemist’s work? Or perhaps it was simply that there was nothing of such obvious value here in comparison to the loot promised above. Whatever the reason, the laboratory had simply been sealed up and consigned to oblivion. Such was a boon; having the goods in reasonable order was a benediction for her search.

But even with this advantage, Lakif faced a daunting task of wading through the ocean of glassware. As interesting as the galaxy of ingredients was, she was frustrated at not being able to find the requisite item. To find laen amid this array was akin to a diver producing a specific stone from the bottom of a bay. In addition, they weren’t even sure if laen was present among the inventory. Such a mythical metal was certainly within the province of an alchemist, but there was no guarantee. To compound matters, reading the ink on the labels guaranteed a headache.

She was about to throw up her hands in despair when her foot nudged something. She found the corner of a book peeking out from under the lowest shelf. The edge had been thoroughly gnawed up. Lakif imagined that the text had either been hidden under the shelf or kicked there by accident. Some rodent had decided to feast on its binding and by its chewing had tugged the book from its hiding spot. As she bent low, she noted that a ring lay near the book.

She speared the ring first, hopeful that it was valuable. But it was nothing much to look at. After careful examination, she discovered a hairpin latch on the edge. She was able to swivel open the face and found a hollow compartment inside. She imagined the device was constructed to store poisons. Its contents could be readily poured into a glass of wine. Understandably, she kept it as a token.

Lakif turned her attention to the book. It measured much longer in height than width and was thin, so she sized it up as a ledger. Sudden curiosity overpowered any interest in searching for the laen, and she tackled the item.

The first page was titled
Rare Herbs and Plants
. The collection of entries began with black mushroom. She found the date of acquisition recorded in an obsolete system that the Acaanan had heard of from time to time. A quick mental calculation revealed that the entry was penned about two hundred years prior, in striking agreement with the Bard’s account. Lakif imagined that the ledger contained the alchemist’s acquisitions on the eve of his untimely flight. The mushroom was registered as a fungus, and a comment added that it was “found on grave of madman.”

Needless to say, the Acaanan was instantly enthralled by the ledger. In his last months, the alchemist had managed to collect, beside the black mushroom, a sprig of belladonna, peony, and hemlock. Lakif was most intrigued by the diverse haunts of such plants. The belladonna plant had been discovered in a place called the ruins of Icor. Peony was secured from a farm in western Mordakai, whereas hemlock was found growing along the banks of the river Cocytus.

The next page contained the heading
Gemstones
, but it was disappointingly blank. The third page was labeled
Organic Ingredients
. She paled before the few entries and quickly turned the page.

This next page was labeled
Elements
. The first entry was red mercury. According to the alchemist, it was billed as a potent reversal factor. She had no idea what this meant but found it seductive. Lakif’s heart soared on finding that the second entry was crushed laen! She was astonished to read of its source. According to the ledger, the alchemist had been invited to a local widow’s home for dinner. Over the candlelight he noted the metal. It was serving as the clasp of her necklace. The entry didn’t elaborate on how he had specifically landed the necklace. Had he asked the widow for the jewelry or somehow duped it from her, or had he taken more heavy-handed measures to secure it?

This finding fueled the Acaanan with renewed hope. The metal must be within the storeroom! She discarded the inventory text and continued her search at double speed. During her culling, she indeed ran across a vial dubbed
red mercury
. She pocketed it without much thought.

It was with jubilation that she ultimately succeeded. Triumphantly, she held up a vial labeled
white laen
. This substance would, in the outside world, be virtually unobtainable due to its fantastic rarity. But here, among the wonders of an alchemical laboratory, the bizarre and unique were the order of the day.

“I
T’S BREATHING!”
T
HE
H
IGH-MAN’S VOICE BOOMED.

Turning, Lakif saw Bael standing proudly beside the furnace. He had cleared out the teeming debris and with a push he leveled the bellows; a gust of air howled through the furnace. When the furnace coughed out air she held her breath, fearing that the smoke was an exhaust of evils.

Bael had accomplished much. Lakif wondered how long had they been at work. Although the hour was impossible to determine in the timeless cellar, she had the feeling the sun was setting. Sifting through the sea of oddities had been an odyssey that had consumed hours. She turned back to continue the search but realized that she had the missing factor in hand. She double-checked the label and, satisfied, returned to the company of her friend.

Bael, armed with a crowbar, was occupied leveraging open a stuck vent along the inner gum line. He apparently had a mechanical bend, an attribute that kept its distance from the Acaanan.

The sight of the furnace awakening stirred something in the Acaanan’s stomach. Presumably, this particular forge hadn’t been used in a score of decades. Who knew for what gruesome purposes it had been kindled in the distant past? If its fires could speak, what atrocities would they impart? One thing probably rang true. No matter what the maligned past of this voracious beast was, it had never tasted the meal that it would consume this day.

As Bael toiled, the Acaanan’s mind continued to wander. She wondered about the other children of Rhoan Oak, those faceless ghosts from her own past. She wondered who among them had found a Stone for themselves, and if so, had also found an alchemical forge. Considering their efforts to find this particular one, she imagined that said forges were perhaps even rarer than the Stones themselves. There couldn’t be more than a handful in even a city as sprawling as Maldiveria.

Something suddenly occurred to her.

“Bael. You never mentioned it, but where did you find your Stone?”

“A quirky tale.” The Kulthean’s voice rang out from within the furnace. It had a brassy, hollow quality from resonating through the cavity. “I was in the Kalkadrian Floats. At that time, I had just retired from my apprenticeship—with a smithy no less.”

Lakif reflected on the revelation. As she had learned the trade of the printer, Bael had studied the art of the smith. This explained his working familiarity with the furnace.

“I was interested in stories of the Stones, of course, but only as a fanciful curiosity.” Bael stopped momentarily to utter a curse as he banged his knuckle on something.

“Damn oven has already tasted my blood!” he cursed.

“Go on!” Lakif coaxed him to elaborate.

“I had accepted a stint doing security. I was guarding a merchant’s warehouse on the Dank Well. You see, I was more interested in supporting myself and securing my next meal than tilting at the windmill of adventure. The Stones were just a distant figment of my dreams. Then one evening, I was strolling along a perilous stretch of beach littered with broken vessels. It was late and the sun was setting beyond EarthDoom, casting long, eerie shadows around the ship graveyard. It was then I met this old wreck on the shore…there!”

Lakif immediately snapped to attention and looked keenly at her friend. The High-man backed out of the furnace, dusting off his powerful hands. His right knuckle was matted with ash-covered blood. In fact, he was so speckled with soot that his flesh seemed to fester with boils. A distant, vacant look clouded his eyes.

“Old wreck?” Lakif echoed.

“Well, she told me where…”

“She?” Lakif shouted.

Bael nodded. “At least I assumed it was a woman. As I said, she told me where I could find the Stone. Or I should say, she predicted, using a bag of seashells and clams that summoned a water spirit. Her predictions were vague, but the short of it was that the Stone could be found in a watery grotto along the Dank Well.”

“What did she look like?” Lakif hallooed.

“Such a miserable sight she was! I was first attracted by her crying, which sounded like the waves cracking on the shoal. She sat at the bow of a ship that was dashed on the rocks. She was draped in seaweed as others wear robes, and barnacles adorned her like jewelry. Leeches clung to her chest hairs, forming a slimy necklace. Her face was blue-bloated like a water-logged corpse. And I can’t forget those eyes! She had no pupils! Instead, her eyes were peppered with black specks like sediment floating in the tide. Foam ran from those eyes like seawater from a hatch. Her rump was as fat as a ship’s bilge! I momentarily thought that the sea monster Cetus herself had been belched up from the deep and marooned on the shore. The stink was atrocious; fetid gas seeped out of her flesh like a gangrenous corpse! She even had a pet eel that wiggled through the folds of her fat. The vessel graveyard truly suited her. She was verily akin to an old barge that crashed on the beach and was slowly decaying. But she enjoyed a bracing insight into the spirit realm, I gathered.” He suddenly seemed to snap out of his recall.

The Acaanan was inundated with questions but knew that further pestering would arouse the High-man’s suspicions.

“You believed her?”

“Not precisely. But she was such a miserable sight that I returned shortly thereafter, armed with a food offering. But she was gone.”

“What happened?” Electricity crackled down Lakif’s spine.

“That was curious. There were the remains of the broken ship with a statue of a woman jutting from the ruined prow. It was all banged up and covered with grime and barnacles. But the crock herself had disappeared! Maybe I had erred in the spot; there were many similar wrecked vessels along that stretch. Or maybe she was carried away by a wave, vanishing between the surf and water.”

“Perhaps you hallucinated,” Lakif pressed.

“It occurred to me that the salty air had rusted my mind, but then I found a bracelet of shells bobbing against the sand bank. She had been wearing them! And I noted the ship’s name etched into the prow. It was pomegranate, a fruit. I recall the crock had referred to the Rare Earth Stone as a fruit.”

“Her claims proved true?” Lakif swooned, spellbound following the revelation.

“To the letter. After much ado, I rescued the Stone from a sunken cave. It was the lair of a sea serpent. The place was littered with bones of unfortunate sailors, but the Stone was there, nestled among her eggs.”

“Eggs!” Lakif shouted. “Just like the moorhen!”

“Pardon?” Bael looked confused.

“Never mind.” Lakif composed herself. “Did the beldam oblige you with her name?”

“I think so, but it was difficult to hear her speak at times. I actually thought she was drowning.”

“That is a
most
peculiar story.” Lakif brooded.

“And you?” her friend asked. “How did you find Ebon Myre?”

“There’s not much to it,” Lakif replied nonchalantly. “I just wished on a falling star.”

Despite her limp reply, Lakif trembled with curiosity. Bael’s account was strikingly reminiscent of her own with Lucretia. Could the two soothsayers be related, even one and the same? Although there were clear differences, the similarities couldn’t be ignored. Each beldam was spectacularly hideous, lipped a cryptic code, and disappeared without a trace. Both even had a pet familiar! There
must
be a connection! But if so, what was the reason for the interference? Lakif could rack her brains and never know the truth of it.

The time had arrived to craft the fire. They laid out the requisite ingredients on the dolmen. The contrary vine was a stringy weed with numerous hairy knots. The lock of hair was likewise from a brunette. The bones rescued from Ixion lay in a jumbled heap. Two small vials with the liquid components twinkled in the light. Next to them lay the goat’s spleen, a walnut-shaped object that resembled a shriveled plum. Then there was a small sack that housed the scorpions. It slightly shifted, and Lakif was reminded of Lucretia’s sack of wonders.

The Acaanan set about binding the bones together with the vine and hair, forming a cone-shaped skeleton resembling a tepee.

Meanwhile, Bael found a bag of coals. He laid them into a soft bed within the furnace and drenched them in starter oil. Lakif carefully placed the bone contraption within the fuel and, with the use of her lighter, set it ablaze. Thus, despite the mystical marvels squirreled away in the lab, the fire was lit by the most conventional of means. Its modest glow looked small indeed in the mammoth furnace, like a single match within a giant cavern. Leveraging the bellows, Bael forced air into the furnace, and the bones burst into flames.

Within a minute, the fire tripled in size and burned steadily. The iron furnace groaned, as if the lab’s chill was so firmly settled in its metallic ribs that it had to be forcibly ousted by the heat.

With another press, Bael sent more life-giving air into the contraption. The burning pyre suddenly billowed with life; flames erupted with anger. Lakif stared at the dancing fire, entranced. She feared that they had rekindled some dormant force. Had they awakened a sleeping goliath that now yawned at them with gaping jaws?

With a flick of the wrist, Lakif emptied the contents of the vials onto the burning bones. First went in the toad’s spit, then the oil of teal. Or had she reversed the order? She wasn’t sure. In any event, the liquids vaporized before the fire. Almost instantly, the flame’s yellowed hue metamorphosed to a brilliant red sheet. Accompanying the change, a wave of heat blasted from the furnace. Its force was sufficient to blow the Acaanan’s straw hair like a sheet in the wind.