The King's Justice (21 page)

He fascinated me. Clearly Indemnie's life had been made viable by alchemy. “And iron, Brother?” I inquired. “You are an adept of iron?”

“Iron also,” he conceded with some bitterness. “From the ore, iron can be grown for any use when the mold necessary for that use has been prepared.”

Thinking I knew not what, I asked, “Is the mold required by alchemy?”

Opalt Intrix sighed, a man vexed by a fool's inquisition. “It
is required by the need for a particular shape. Lacking a mold, the iron will retain its first form as it grows.”

Unable to explain myself even to myself, I continued my queries.

“What does it signify that you are deemed an adept?”

Now my visitor answered more readily. My interest appeared to touch his vanity. “Any alchemist may apply his gift to any material. However, the purity of the blood varies. Also natural inclinations and talents vary. Each alchemist must discover the best use of his gift. For myself, I am named an adept, and am held in considerable regard, because my abilities pertain to iron.

“The growing of iron, like that of stone, is considered of especial worth because both iron and stone are more malleable than any material able to live and grow without the application of alchemy. Such plants as grasses, shrubs, and grains may be grown with comparative ease. It is their nature to grow. Consequently they can only be denied their natural shapes by warping, or by some other distortion. Iron and stone have no natural shape. Therefore they have no use unless they are simultaneously increased and molded for some desired purpose.

“Some generations past, the purest alchemists of their time labored for a decade to create the many blocks of granite which became this edifice.” He glanced at the walls around him. “They were true adepts of stone. For that reason, I esteem their memory.” In this assertion, he may have been sincere. “Iron is a laborious material, but it is not as arduous as stone.”

Altogether he filled me with a sense of wonder which I could
ill afford to indulge. After a moment's consideration, I turned to a new heading.

“Clearly, Brother Intrix,” I observed, “the abilities of other alchemists, like your own, are wide-ranging and remarkable. Is it conceivable that an alchemist may turn his gifts to hieronomy?”

My visitor shrugged heavily. “The gift is the gift.” He did not trouble himself to meet my gaze. By such signs, he expressed a profound disinterest. “Only purity, talent, and character vary. What is hieronomy but an attempt to expand discernment itself, albeit by external means? Yet the uncertainties of the future are both subtle and extensive. They thwart even an expanded discernment. Alchemists prefer tangible tasks, ones which may be effectively achieved.”

He piqued me despite his manner. By external means? With an eagerness which I endeavored to conceal, I pursued my interest.

“Brother Intrix, given that the alchemists of Indemnie are capable of such wonders, I must wonder why they cannot perform similar miracles with men.”

The adept shrugged again, plainly wishing himself elsewhere. “I know not.
We
know not. We are certain only that any flesh possessed by a living mind cannot endure the effects of alchemy. Even the beasts of field and forest perish if growth is attempted upon them.

“Some among us surmise that any mind—even that of a beast—cannot suffer its own increase, which must affect that
mind as warping affects a tree. For myself, I have no opinion on the matter. It has no pertinence to my own labors.”

So saying, he appeared to dash a hope that I had not expressed. Nonetheless I was not dashed. His elucidation—however grudgingly granted—sufficed to heighten an excitement which might come to serve as hope.

Yet I did not pause to contemplate my own thoughts. Striving to unsettle my visitor, I stated bluntly, “You spoke of purity of blood, Brother.”

He gazed at me with unconcealed exasperation. “Is even
that
unknown to you? I refer to
lineage
, to inheritance from the first families of Indemnie. Are you not gifted? Are you ignorant of your place among your kind? Your knowledge of history is scant indeed if you are unaware that those families were forsaken upon this isle because their gifts were feared. That alchemists—and hieronomers,” he conceded ungraciously, “do not now command this realm is of no significance. In our forgotten homeland, we learned that our lives are both more valued and less at hazard when we do not rule.”

“A wise policy, Brother,” I replied, pretending a fatuous equability. “Fortunately my further queries will not transgress its bounds. Hearing you, I am made aware that the alchemists of Indemnie are capable of much which lies beyond my poor comprehension. Pardon, if you will, an inquiry which may surprise you. Being capable of so much, are you also able to expand our isle itself? Can the alchemists of Indemnie at work together create more
land
?”

For a moment, he stared as though he confronted a madman. Then he coughed a harsh laugh. “You wander in your wits, Hieronomer. Have you considered the
magnitude
of the labor you suggest? If you crave more land—why, I know not—we cannot simply spread earth over the seas. The isle itself must be increased upward from its foundations in the depths of the ocean—depths, I hasten to add, which have not been fathomed, and which may well lie leagues beneath the waves. Such labor is not the work of one lifetime, or of several. Generations beyond number might pass ere a hundred alchemists, or a thousand, increased Indemnie's land by as much as an acre.”

In response, I laughed with better grace than he. “Then let that thought be forgotten. It was indeed as ill-considered as you have deemed it. I am humbled by your better apprehension.”

Resuming my efforts to unsettle him, I again altered my heading. “As an adept of iron,” I remarked, “you, Brother, and others of similar gifts must have been in considerable demand recently.”

Of a sudden, the alchemist's manner became wary. “Why do you say so?”

I offered my own shrug, watching him narrowly. “Baron Estobate and Baron Plinth have armies. Their soldiers are well-supplied with swords and helms of iron.”

There Opalt Intrix hesitated. Briefly he appeared to reconsider his desire to challenge Slew's strength—or perhaps the strength of Slew's authority. If so, he must have concluded that he could not out-match my Queen's man. His shoulders slumped in resignation.

“Then I must confess that the demands of the barons have indeed been considerable. But of their purposes I know nothing. I care only that I am valued.” A moment later, he averred, “My allegiance belongs to the pure Queens of Indemnie.”

His emphasis upon purity urged me to draw inferences which I could not then examine. Believing that I had disturbed his composure, I chose rather to pursue my advantage. “That being said, good Brother Intrix,” I continued as though my inquiries were the ordinary and predictable outcome of his answers, “I must now ask
how
alchemy is performed. My service to Indemnie's present pure Queen requires an understanding of the preparations, methods, and materials necessary to your gift.”

“Ha!” His expostulation rattled in his chest, the cough of a man who would have preferred to bring up his lungs. “You are a fool indeed if you imagine me fool enough to disclose my knowledge to
you
, gift-kin though you may be.”

Ere I could reply, a dirk appeared in Slew's fist. With his other arm, he clasped my visitor's shoulders. His blade he rested on the loose flesh of Opalt Intrix's throat.

Slew's instant support both startled and steadied me. Relying upon it, and encouraged by the alchemist's quick fear, I addressed Opalt Intrix in a cautioning tone.

“Yet you must do so, Brother. You must do so for your life, if you will not for your rightful sovereign. Slew may have a flaw or three in his nature, but hesitation is not among them. Indeed, he may be entirely innocent of scruple. If you will not answer,
Indemnie will lose an adept of iron—and the loss will be scantly grieved.”

“No!” the man protested. “I
must
not! The secrecy of our knowledge preserves our lives. More, it wards those who lack our gifts. Our knowledge will prove fatal to all who attempt its use without the aid of our blood. Disclosure will cost
lives
, Brother, and not only among the alchemists who nurture the realm's prosperity!”

“Nevertheless,” I insisted, reassured by the man's urgency. “On this matter, Opalt Intrix, I will not relent. However, to appease your fears, I will vow upon my own blood that your secrets will not be shared beyond this chamber. We are not Baron Venery, Brother. We are able to keep our own counsel.”

“It is certain,” growled Slew, “that I am. I can seal my mouth as easily as I can shed your life.”

“What of—?” The alchemist's scrubbed hand indicated Excrucia's shadowed form.

Of her I had no doubt. “My word binds our silent companion.”

Still he strove to muster some protest that I might heed. Twisting his throat away from Slew's blade as best he could, he pleaded, “Yet the essence of my secrets is known to you.” His catarrh appeared to choke him. “You are aware that gifted blood is necessary. I have spoken of the role of natural inclination and talent. What more do you desire?”

“Preparations,” I repeated. “Methods. Are incantations needful? Are there rituals which must be performed?”

“Paugh!” In his desperation, he coughed phlegm and scorn. “Does hieronomy rely upon incantations? Do you enact rituals here, in the privacy—the
secrecy
—of your laborium?”

The revelation that I sought now trembled upon his tongue. I had only to provoke its utterance, knowing that my own small gift depended solely upon itself. I had no use for incantations and rituals, and was now assured that he had none.

“Brother Intrix,” I replied with an air of nonchalance that pleased me, “I am not altogether as ignorant of history as you suppose. I have discovered that when our ancestors first endeavored to live upon this isle, barren as it then was, their alchemists lacked one material required by their gifts.” Then I allowed my years of loneliness and ire into my voice. “I am
aware
that our ancestors would not have survived their abandonment without the scrying of hieronomers to discover that one material.” Harsh as a scourge, I said, “I demand of you only that you
name
it. For my Queen's sake, I must know by what means the gifts of alchemists are transformed from illusion to effect.”

Still Opalt Intrix closed his mouth. Beneath their flesh, his jaws knotted as though he intended to remain silent forever.

Lifting my shoulders in a last shrug, I nodded to Slew.

At once, he set the point of his dirk and pressed until blood began a ready trickle from the alchemist's jowl.

Swift panic glared in my gift-kin's eyes. His mouth appeared to open of its own accord. His thick lips flapped as he cried, “It is
chrism
, you fool! A natural ore, and rare. A catalyst! The deeds of alchemists require only blood and talent and will and
chrism
.”

There an instant of elation overcame me. Though I was myself as fearful as my victim, and held in far less regard, I had achieved a portion of my purpose—perhaps the most vital portion. I now needed only one further disclosure from the alchemist, no more, and my use of him would be complete.

Ere I could master my exultation, however, my door swung open, and I sprang immediately to my feet. There was but one personage in all the realm to whom Vail would have granted admittance.

With the light of my candles glittering in her eyes and a heave of haste in her bosom, Inimica Phlegathon deVry entered my chambers.

That she was fraught with wrath was plain. That she was of a mind to claim heads—mine first among them—seemed probable. Yet I had come far in her name, and now found myself disinclined to falter. With an exertion of will, I resumed my seat. This was my laborium, and I intended to preside over it.

“Your Majesty,” I said as though her arrival had been agreed between us—as though my posture upon my stool were not in itself an unpardonable affront—“we are speaking of
chrism
.” Though I trembled, I held to my purpose. “Opalt Intrix has just informed us that it is vital to the deeds of alchemists—and that it is fatal to all who do not share the blood-gift of our ancestors. I was about to inquire whether it may be used to test those who lay claim to pure lineage.”

With her finery and loveliness—with what I must call her splendor—my Queen by her mere presence caused my
workroom to appear soiled and tawdry, a place where unsavory deeds were performed by a despicable man. Yet she addressed no word to me. Briefly she glanced at her daughter hooded and cloaked in the corner. Her gaze rested for a moment on my tables, no doubt marking the absence of fresh blood. Then she turned to confront Opalt Intrix and Slew.

“Slew Immordson,” she began, “I give thanks daily for your service. Now I do so again that you informed me of this gathering, and that you remained to stand guard on my behalf. Had you not asked in my Hieronomer's name for authority to summon an alchemist, I would not have granted it. And had you not informed me of my Hieronomer's alliances, I would not have allowed this inquisition to proceed so long in my absence. I will not sully your loyalty with promises of reward. Know, however, that my gratitude is yours.”

To this comparative effusion, Slew replied with no more than a blunt nod. If my Queen's thanks either pleased or irked him, he gave no sign.

To all appearances, she expected none. Rather she shifted her attention at once to the alchemist.

“And your answer, Opalt Intrix?” she inquired. “Can this
chrism
be employed as my Hieronomer suggests?”

In reply, he stared as though he beheld his life in ruins. Sweat beaded upon his brow, and his mouth attempted words for which he had no voice. He had spoken easily enough of
allegiance
and
pure Queens
. Confronted by Inimica Phlegathon deVry herself, however, he appeared lost in fright.