The Alchemist's Touch (25 page)

“Here we are,” said Ebon. “Now let us see what we can.”

Together they leaned out and peered into the night. Ebon’s heart fell almost immediately. There were two docks before them, each large enough to hold a vast ship, both empty.

“What does that mean?” said Kalem. “One of the ships is clearly drawn right here.”

“I do not know,” said Ebon.
 

“What of the other ship on the map? Will it be empty, too?”

“I do not know, Kalem!” hissed Ebon. “The only way to find out is to move on.”

He caught Theren’s eye in the moonslight, eyeing him doubtfully, her brow furrowed in worry.

“There will be something,” he reassured her. “There must be.”

“But what if it already happened?” she said. “Whatever was plotted, we may have missed it.”

Ebon paused. He had not considered that. “Then we are wasting our time. But at least we tried.”

She sighed and nodded, again leading them down the docks.

Almost before they had reached the ship, Ebon knew they had failed. Another two empty spaces, ready to hold grand ships, in the exact spot where the boat was drawn on the map. But there was nothing there, and thus their venture had failed.

“The same again,” Kalem said. “Perhaps this is a sign in itself. Why should these spots be empty? I mean these
precise
spots. Mayhap the signs on the map mean something other than what we thought.”

“We saw many empty spots along the way,” said Theren. “I doubt it means anything sinister. Ebon, what say you?”

But Ebon was frozen. The spots on the map were empty, yes. But there was a ship just beside them. A small vessel, with but a single mast and space to carry a dozen passengers, or more. But people were milling on the dock beside it, and he had recognized two.

“Ebon?” He waved Kalem to silence and leaned forwards, hands gripping a crate’s edge.
 

Yes. It was them. Liya and Ruba, two of the servants from the Drayden family manor upon the seat, carrying satchels that looked very much like traveling sacks, following behind others he recognized from the manor.

“I need to get closer,” he said. “So I can see those people just there.”

“Why?” said Theren.

“Just get me closer.”

She sighed and looked up and down the dock, but there were no constables close by. Quickly she stole across the dock, and now they were more exposed than they had been before. Ebon followed, with Kalem just behind. Now they were mere paces from the figures boarding the ship.

“Be quick,” said Theren. “We could be seen far too easily here.”

Leaning out again, Ebon saw that he had been right. Yes, Liya and Ruba were there. And so were the manor’s cooks and cleaners, the gardeners, and the stableboy. It was such a shock to see them, Ebon nearly called out to ask what they were doing, stopping himself only at the last moment.

“It is them,” he whispered. “All the servants from our family manor. They are leaving.”

“What?” Theren stopped surveying the docks and looked at the people boarding the ship. “Do you truly mean
all
of them?”

“Every one,” said Ebon. “I do not recall a face from the manor that is not here before us now.”

“But where is your family?” said Theren. “Surely they would not stay to manage the household themselves. Unless…have they run short on coin? Perhaps they could not pay these servants anymore, and are sending them home.”

Ebon snorted. “Not likely. They are being sent away.”

“To Dulmun?” said Kalem.

“What?” Ebon blinked at him. “No. They would be sent to Idris. Why would you say that?”

Kalem pointed to the bow, where a green pennant hung with the sigil of a white wave breaking across it. “That is a ship of Dulmun, of the king’s own fleet.”

“Perhaps they hired it,” Ebon suggested.

“They could not,” Kalem shook his head. “The king’s ships are never for hire. They sail only at his personal—”

“You there!”

The shout made them jump, and they whirled to see a woman in red leather armor standing paces away, hand on the hilt of her sword.

“What are you three doing here?”

Ebon glanced over his shoulder. The manor servants had heard the constable, and were looking towards him. If one of them laid eyes on his face, they were done for.

“Run!” he whispered, shoving Theren and Kalem forwards.

They tried to dodge past the constable and run north along the dock, the way they had come, but the crafty woman blocked their path. They turned as one and ran in the other direction.

“There are piers running back to the shore!” cried Theren. “Make for one!”

But looking ahead, Ebon saw they were too late. Another constable had heard the commotion and was coming for them now. His sword lay bare in his hand, steel glinting in moonslight.

“The cargo!” said Kalem, breaking for the crates, with Ebon and Theren a step behind. The constables shouted behind them. But as they wove through the stacks, Theren’s eyes glowed, and she threw her hands wildly from side to side. Barrels swayed, and then came crashing down to block the pathways leading forwards. But the barrels were empty, and the guards cast them aside with ease. Theren had to throw more and more down behind them to remain ahead.

Though his body lanced with agony, Ebon tried to help her. He went for a barrel standing atop another, and pushed at it. But when his hands slid on its surface, a long splinter sprang into his flesh to leave an angry red streak. He cursed, but did not remove his hands. He could feel the wooden spike digging in harder as he pushed.

And then, he could
feel
the wood. He saw it. He saw it down to its core, through to every part of it.

He changed it.

Just as the barrel tipped, a ripple of grey shot around it. By the time it hit the docks, it had turned to stone. It went crashing into the guards’ legs, and they cried out as it bowled them over. Ebon stared at the barrel in shock, and Kalem did the same beside him. But Theren seized their shoulders and dragged them backwards, away from the chaos.

“Run, you fools! Time enough for gawking later!”

The constables’ angry cries fade behind them as they reached the docks’ western end. Thirty feet of black water between them and the shore.

“Theren, can you carry us across?”

“Are you mad? I can hardly lift you to the top of a wall.”

“I may…I may have something,” said Kalem, though his trembling voice. “Theren, could you lower me to the water?”

“No time!” Ebon threw himself to the dock’s edge. The tide was high, and the water just four feet away. “Give me your ankles!”

Kalem crawled to the edge and over, with Ebon and Theren clinging to his legs. His robes fell around his shoulders to expose his underclothes.

“Not one word, from either of you,” he snapped.

“Be silent and hurry,” said Theren. “They are getting close.” And indeed, Ebon could hear the constables voices above the crates and barrels, moving around the stacks of cargo towards them.

Kalem reached out until his hands touched the water. A wave of ice spread from his fingertips, out and out, until a small platform of ice yawned for several paces in every direction, securing itself by wrapping the dock’s many poles.
 

“All right!” he squealed. “Let me go!”

They did, and he came down to the ice on hands and knees. At once he crawled forwards, spreading the ice before him a few feet at a time. Ebon and Theren scrambled to climb down from the dock behind him. But just as Ebon had nearly lowered himself off the edge, he heard a triumphant cry, and something snatched at the back of his robes. He barely twisted his neck enough to see the constable behind him, one gloved fist filled with his robe, her sword held high and ready to strike.

“No!” Theren’s eyes glowed, and her hand cut through the air. The woman’s head snapped back, and she released her grip on Ebon’s robe before falling to the ground. Ebon gained the ice and scrambled forwards, just behind Theren.

“Thank you.” His voice refused to stop shaking.

“Better than my showing against the Dean,” she said with a faint smile.

They were halfway to shore. Again, Ebon heard a cry behind him, but this time much farther away. He turned and saw that while the constable struck by Theren still lay senseless on the dock, the other had arrived at last. He ran for the dock’s edge and gave a mighty leap onto the ice. It cracked beneath him, and he sank into the water with a yelp. Ebon froze, but then saw the man’s head crash back to the surface, his limbs flailing as he fought to stay afloat. In a moment he had secured his grip on the ice, and there he clung, sputtering and trying to spit the seawater from his lungs.

They reached the shore without further incident, and climbed the steep slope leading up to the city’s wall. There they quickly made there way north until they had neared the eastern gate. Just before reaching it, Theren snatched Kalem’s cloak and pulled him to a stop.

“Wait. We should not go inside yet. There is still the marking to the southeast to investigate—the small boat drawn in the cave.”

“You
cannot
mean to go there, too.” Kalem was close to a shout. “This is twice now we have nearly seen ourselves killed, and twice too many. I shall not do it again!”

“But we did
not
die,” said Theren. “And now they will be searching the docks for us, while we shall be on the Seat’s southern edge. We shall be safer than ever.”

“Nothing about this is safe!” Kalem stomped his foot. “If you wish to go running about on more misadventures, do so yourselves. I shall return to the Academy, now, with no delay. And if you will not sneak me back in, I will march straight back to the front door and knock upon it—and damn them if they punish me.”

Theren’s eyes flashed, but Ebon put a hand on her arm. “Leave it, Theren. I do not think I could last much longer in any case.” The crawl across the ice had worsened his aches and pains. “We can always return another night, when we have rested.”

“Yes, and when Kalem has had time to find his courage again,” muttered Theren.

Kalem folded his arms. “Call me a coward if you wish, but you know I am right. If there are guards posted where the small boat is drawn, they will be more vigilant now. And Ebon looks as though he might collapse at any moment.”

“I might at that.” Ebon reached out for Theren. She took his arm, slinging it over her shoulder with a sigh.
 

“Very well,” she said. “Only something in my heart tells me the danger grows, the longer we take to discover the truth of whatever is happening.”

“Be that as it may, we must bide our time.”

At Ebon’s nudge, they walked north again, headed towards the eastern gate.

twenty-seven

By the time Ebon sat for the midday meal, he had come to strongly regret their nighttime excursion. His bruises felt crippling, and his limbs seemed to stall before answering his will. He sat hunched over his food, barely able to eat.
 

On the table beside his bowl, he had laid the wooden rod. Overcome by the excitement of last night’s flight from danger, he had hardly even remembered the stone barrel until the next morning. Then he had shot up in his bed and reached for the rod. Yet his magic failed him. Throughout Credell’s class, he had tried again and again. He tried to remember how it had felt to touch the barrel. He remembered the splinter, the feeling of wood penetrating his skin. But it made no difference. The wood remained wood.

Kalem found him first, and sat beside him on the bench. The boy was very nearly bouncing. “How went your lessons today? Did you cast the spell for Credell?”

“I did not,” Ebon grumbled. “I cannot cast it again, any more than I can lift the Academy from the earth by will alone.”

Kalem’s face fell for a moment, but he forced his smile wider. “Worry not overmuch. It is often that way when you first learn a new spell. You will remember again before long.”

“I hope so. I
felt
it, Kalem. I felt the magic flowing through me.”

“Glorious, is it not?” said Kalem with a smile. “Well do I remember the first time I transmuted matter. There are few feelings like it in all the world.”

Theren appeared before them, sitting across the table with her food. “Good morrow, fellow conspirators. Have you graduated classes yet, Ebon?”

“He has not, for the spell faded with the night’s rest,” said Kalem. “And I have reason to believe the subject is still somewhat sore.”

“Sore as my limbs,” groaned Ebon.

Theren shrugged. “Do not worry yourself. It is only a matter of time, now. Though time may be something we do not have.”

Ebon frowned. “What do you mean?”

Theren shrugged again, and avoided Kalem’s gaze. “Only that I would feel safer if we had finished our search last night.”

“And I would have felt safer if we had not all nearly been drowned by constables,” said Kalem, voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Besides, we investigated your markings. We found nothing amiss.”

“Nothing but my family’s manor fleeing the Seat,” said Ebon glumly.

“Mayhap the blue markings were the right ones,” said Theren, “and the red were only a decoy.”

“But why?” said Kalem. “What purpose for the difference? Mayhap they are both clues, and we simply do not understand the difference in colors?”

Theren sighed. “I think we shall have little luck with guesses, only finding more answers if we look for ourselves.”

“You say that as if it is some simple thing,” grumbled Kalem.

Ebon sat silent, staring at his food. Though the others seemed to care little about it, he could not forget the sight of the Drayden manor staff stealing away onto the ship. Halab had said she was here for family business. That must have been it—to move the manor away. He could not imagine why. And another thought grated at him: they had spent the entire day together, and she had mentioned nothing. Had she not imagined that he might visit the manor, after his study hours? How did she think he would feel, arriving to find it empty, or mayhap sold to some new tenant?

Ebon felt abandoned by his family. That was not such a terrible prospect, except for Halab.