The Alchemist's Touch Read online

  “Here you may store your spare robes. This bed is yours now.”

  Ebon looked around the room at all the other beds, wondering how many were occupied. “Is this where all the alchemists sleep?”

  “No alchemists sleep here at all.”

  His cheeks burned. “I am sorry. Is this where all the transmuters sleep?”

  She smirked. “A quick student, then. The answer is no. The branches study together, but here in the dormitories you are arranged with the other students according to your ages.”

  That was a relief. Ebon had no wish to spend his days sleeping in a room full of children. But Jia must have seen the pleasure on his face as something else, for she fixed him with a stern glare.

  “Do not look so excited. You should know that it is strictly forbidden for students to philander upon Academy grounds. This is a place of learning.” Ebon’s face grew beet red as he realized what she thought she had seen in his mind, but Jia pressed on before he could speak. “There are many places upon the Seat where you and the others may see to your needs. This is not one of them. Instructors walk the halls at night and inspect the dormitories often. Keep yourself restrained while you are here, and if you require silphium, you will see to procuring it yourself. Is that clear?”

  “Yes,” he said, voice strangled with embarrassment. “I assure you, I understand completely.”

  Jia lifted her chin, eyes softening slightly. “Good. Know also that fighting is forbidden, magical or otherwise. That rule extends beyond the Academy’s walls—take some private duel beyond the walls, and we shall hear about it. Rest assured, you will be expelled. Now that you know where you will be sleeping, allow me to show you where you will study.”

  She led him downstairs again, and this time took him to the entrance hall. They went down the hallway on the left and came to a door that Ebon thought was familiar. Sure enough, when she opened it he recognized the room where the instructor Credell had taught beginning alchemy. But the room was empty, and neither Credell nor his students were anywhere to be seen.

  “This is your classroom,” said Jia. “Your instructor is a man named Credell. His students are dismissed, but they will soon return. In the beginning, your days of learning will be divided into two periods of three hours—one before the midday meal, and the other after. This is where you will study your first period.”

  Ebon remembered with some despair the classroom full of young children, but nodded at Jia’s words. “And my second period?”

  “That is general study, and it takes place in the library. There, I shall be your instructor. Come, and I shall show you.”

  She led him away, and Ebon thrilled at the thought that she would be teaching him. He had not liked the look of Credell, nor the way he seemed to flinch away from any word above a whisper. Though Jia was a weremage, perhaps she could help him fill in the gaps in his alchemy, for he strongly suspected Credell would not.

  The gaps in my transmutation, I mean, he thought to himself, and smiled.

  Jia turned this way and that, until soon Ebon was utterly lost again within the halls. When she saw him looking around, desperate for a landmark, she said, “You will often get lost in your first days, and I doubt I could do much to prevent that. Therefore I shall not waste time teaching you where to find your classrooms, but rather how to recognize them. You can ask your fellow students if you have trouble locating yourself.”

  “Thank you,” Ebon mumbled, and abandoned trying to find any sort of marker.

  “There are some things you may try to keep in mind,” Jia continued. “For example, the beginner’s classes are located near the front of the citadel, while advanced classes are towards the rear. Therefore you will move ever deeper as your learning advances—except for your general studies, which are always in the library, and therefore never leave the citadel’s rear.”

  “All right,” he mumbled.

  Jia pursed her lips, looking as though she was barring a smile. “Perhaps that is not as helpful to a student nearly arrived as I think. But here we are now!”

  They had reached double doors of white wood, the same kind that Cyrus had led them through to the training grounds. But as Jia opened them, Ebon saw they were still within the Academy’s walls—and yet, as with the training grounds, he froze to gaze in wonder.

  Never had Ebon beheld a sight like the Academy’s library, nor imagined that so many books existed in all the world. He stepped just over the threshold to look up, for he could immediately see that there was a second floor—yet, looking up, he noticed that there were in fact four, each reached by a narrow wooden staircase with no railing. Far, far above, the library’s roof ended in a great yellow dome, worked of some substance like glass and casting a golden glow upon the place. The glow was strengthened by glass lanterns set in many fixtures on the walls—no open flames were permitted, Ebon guessed, for the safety of the books.

  And books there were; he thought that there must be tens of thousands. The bottom floor where he stood had many tables laid out, and at each one sat one or more students with volumes laid open before them. He could see more tables set against the railings above, with more students reading additional tomes. And yet the shelves seemed full to bursting with still more, and Ebon could not spy a single empty space.

  “Where…” he stopped, trying to gather his thoughts. “Where did they all come from?”

  “All across the nine lands, and throughout the long centuries of history,” said Jia, and he heard the reverence in her voice.

  “What knowledge do they hold?”

  “All of it, I should not be surprised to learn. But you could spend five lifetimes and not read them all, and only if you spent all your time here, where you could never put such knowledge to use. I must admit to some small pleasure at the wonder in your eyes. Are you fond of reading?”

  Ebon shook his head slowly. “Not before. But this…how could anyone see this place and not be struck by wonder? The Dean took me through the Academy yesterday, but he never showed me this. If he had, I would have called this the Academy’s greatest wonder.”

  Jia’s lips drew into a thin line. “That does not greatly surprise me. Cyrus is not the most avid reader, and was not even as a student himself.”

  “You were here when he was a student?” Ebon blinked. “How can that be? You cannot have seen enough years.”

  It looked as though she was trying hard to stifle a smile. “You will find that flattery has little effect on me, Ebon.”

  “I did not…I meant only that…”

  She patted him on the arm. “Pay it no heed. Come. That is all you need to see today, and we should return you to your dormitory. You can return tomorrow, when your first day at the Academy truly begins.”

  Jia brought Ebon back through the halls to another spiral staircase leading up. This time he recognized the staircase, and thought he might even be able to find it again, if pressed. That boded well. Once they reached the third floor, she brought him to his dormitory and stopped before his bed.

  “There is one more thing you should know. If you wish to send a letter home, you may bring it to me, and I will see its safe transport. The fee is a silver penny. But if you wish to send a letter, and have not the coin, come speak with me, and I will see if something can be arranged.”

  Ebon blushed, for he had a thick purse in his robes—transferred from the clothes he had worn upon arrival, and always kept upon him in case of emergency. “I do not think I shall have a problem in that regard. But I thank you for your consideration.” Again he thanked the sky above that she did not know his family. He remembered the way that everyone had avoided his eyes at the tavern only two days ago, and knew Jia would never have been so friendly if she knew.

  “I imagine that is true, Ebon of the family Drayden.”

  A chill set into his bones, and Ebon blanched as he looked at her. Wordlessly his mouth worked, trying to form some explanation. Jia smiled sadly, and then, to his surprise, she took his hand.

 
“You thought I did not know your family? It is written plain on your face, as well as your bearing, and your manner of speech. But if you think that matters here, you are mistaken. No one worth their salt cares for your name or your kin. And the Draydens have produced many excellent wizards—sky above, one of them is our Dean.”

  Ebon found words hard to muster. “But…but on the Seat, they…”

  “I do not doubt that many on the street looked at you askance. But you will find—or you should find—that being a wizard is different. Many worries you have struggled with during your life will fade while you are here. If not, then you are not learning all that you should. Do you understand?”

  “I am afraid not.”

  “Of course not. But you will. Your first class is tomorrow morning, two hours after the rising of the sun.”

  Then she left him, and Ebon stared after her, dumbfounded, as the dormitory faded to silence around him.

  eight

  AFTER JIA HAD GONE, HE went to his cabinet and ensured his robes were neatly stacked. He doubted anyone would care how his cabinet looked, but liked his things well ordered, and no longer had Tamen to take care of them for him.

  Tamen. Thinking of his retainer sent Ebon’s mind spinning. Only a few hours ago he had left Tamen standing in the Drayden manor courtyard, and now he was in the Academy. He might see Tamen again someday, and then again he might not. Certainly it would be a long time, unless his parents returned to the Seat for some reason Ebon could not predict.

  But thinking of his parents, he also thought of the closed carriage door and the shadow behind the curtain. That thought did not bear dwelling upon, and so he looked about the dormitory for something else to do. It seemed no duties were required of him, at least not until the next morrow. Mayhap he could inspect the common room, for he had seen it only twice, and both times in haste. He left his bed and walked the long aisle to the door leading out.

  The common room was wide and tall, but somehow seemed close and comfortable at the same time. He inspected the plush chairs placed about the room again, and the fireplaces set in either wall. It was summer now, and so they sat unlit, but he did not doubt that they would give great warmth when winter’s shroud descended upon the Seat. The walls were the same granite as the citadel, but hung with many tapestries of red and green and gold, and everywhere he saw the cross-and-circle of the Academy worked into the designs.

  To his surprise, Ebon saw another student sitting in the common room. He did not remember seeing her when he had passed through with Jia. Perhaps she had come in only a moment ago—but then, perhaps, he had only missed her, for she sat quietly tucked into a chair in the corner, making no noise. Indeed, she did not even look up or appear to see him. Her hair was lank and black, her skin sallow, and massive bags hung beneath her eyes and above her gaunt cheeks.

  Slowly, anxiously, Ebon drew closer. Still she did not see him. She was holding something in her hands, and now he could see it was a goblet of silver. Then, to Ebon’s amazement, her eyes glowed with an inner light, and she pulled her hands away—but the cup stayed there, floating in midair.

  She is a mindmage.

  The girl twisted her hands, and the goblet began to spin. First it turned end over end, in line with her nose. Then she concentrated, her nose twitching, and it twisted in another direction. Her hands clenched, wiry muscles taut beneath the skin, and it spun the opposite way. It turned faster and faster, becoming a blur, moving so fast that Ebon thought it looked like a spinning silver ball, and not a cup at all.

  Entrancement made him forget his fear, and now he walked eagerly to her, stopping next to the arm of her chair. Yet, still she did not look at him. He waited a moment in silence, out of manners, and then gently cleared his throat.

  “That is astonishing,” he said, fearing his voice was too loud in the quiet room. The girl said nothing. He felt sweat beading on the back of his neck, and pulled at the collar of his robe. “I…I am Ebon. I am only arrived to the Academy today. How long have you attended?”

  At last she looked up, meeting his brown eyes with her own, still glowing from the use of her magic. Then her hands constricted, like an eagle’s claws sinking into a rabbit’s neck. The goblet abruptly stopped spinning, and crumpled into a tiny ball of metal with a terrible rending noise.

  Ebon jumped, and then turned hastily to scurry away. He found a chair on the other end of the room, blocked from sight by the furniture in between, and tried sinking into the plush cushions.

  As the fright died in his breast, Ebon’s fingers tapped on the armchair. He looked about the room, but could see no one else, nor hear the sound of anyone passing by in the hallway. He could only feel the girl’s presence, as though her eyes were boring into his soul, despite the fact she could not see him.

  Perhaps he had better practice his own magic. Soon he would be expected to perform it, and he was many years out of practice. If Tamen had ever caught him playing at spells, his father would have heard about it immediately. And he had never been allowed to meet another wizard, much less an alchemist.

  But he still remembered the spell he had done as a boy, when the Academy’s tester had come to see if he had the gift. Now he looked around, seeing cups and a pitcher of water on a nearby table. He went to fetch himself a cup—careful to keep his eyes from the corner of the room where the dark girl sat—and returned to his chair.

  He gently swished the water, and then placed a single finger into the cup to stir it. The water was neither cool nor warm, but was the exact temperature of the room itself. He closed his eyes and focused. Hazy across the long years since he first heard them, the old wizard’s words returned to his mind: Feel the water. See it the way it truly is. And then change it.

  Ebon concentrated with all his might. His eyes squeezed shut so tightly that they pained him. But nothing happened. He opened one eye, just a crack, to be sure. But the water still sat cool against his finger. The back of his neck prickled, and his forehead beaded with sweat. He thought he could feel something…something within him, yearning to break free. He reached for it, but the harder he grasped, the more quickly it slipped away.

  A long, slow breath escaped him. He stopped reaching, stopped trying to grasp the unknowable power dancing at the edge of his awareness. Instead he thought only of the water growing before his vision, the goblet swelling until it swallowed all the world. Now even his finger was forgotten, except as the bridge connecting him to the liquid.

  His vision brightened.

  Ebon felt his heart beginning to hammer in his chest, but forced himself to concentrate. His finger stirred, swirling in slow little circles and causing the water to splash against the cup’s rim. He turned the water thick and soupy, wherever he touched it, until soon it was pasty and resisting his finger.

  He sat back with a gasp, leaning into the couch, hand trembling as he lifted the cup again. Within, the water was a thick, oily soup.

  He wanted to burst into laughter. It had worked. Years had passed since he had last dared to slip away from Tamen for long enough to try it. He thanked the sky above that he could still do it, for he shuddered to think of the bitter irony of reaching the Academy at last, only to lose his gift.

  The common room door slammed open, and three students stormed inside.

  Ebon shot to his feet. Across the room, he saw the sallow-faced girl had gone. With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized he still held the cup before him. Swiftly he turned to place it on the table beside his chair, straightened himself, and then wiped his finger against his robe to rid it of the oil.

  A girl led the other students who had entered, and her gaze fixed on Ebon. She paused for a moment, brows drawing close, and then came to him. Her skin was ebony, her thick hair cut just below her ears and intricately braided to frame her face, making her light eyes all the more captivating. She stopped before Ebon and put her hands to her hips, sizing him up. Though Ebon stood half a head taller than she, he felt himself quail before her presence—an effect
greatly enhanced by the girl and boy standing behind her, both several fingers taller than Ebon. Though she wore the same plain black robes as any other student, her stance and expression spoke plainly: here was a girl from wealth and power.

  “Who are you?” she said. “I have not seen you before.”

  Ebon tried to speak, but it came out as a cough, spit catching in his gullet. He cleared his throat. “I—I am Ebon,” he croaked. “I have only just arrived at the Academy today.”

  “Where did you train before? You cannot be sponsored by some lord. You are far too old. Did your family hire you some tutor?”

  Ebon felt a burning all along his skin, and knew his face must be dark as a well-cooked roast. “I have never trained.”

  She stared at him for a moment, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. He could see in her face that she did not believe him. Behind her, the other students looked at each other askance. But then the girl’s eyes darted past Ebon, to the wooden cup on the side table. He tried shifting to the side, to block her view with his body. But her lips twisted in a cruel smirk, and she pushed past him to grasp the cup. Lifting it before her face, she dipped a finger into the crude oil.

  “The trial spell?” she laughed. “That cannot be the only magic you know.”

  “It is,” said Ebon, still flush with shame. But now annoyance was blossoming to anger in his breast, and he spoke without thinking. “My father never wanted me to train, and if he caught me trying magic—”

  The girl stopped Ebon with a loud laugh, the others behind her snickering along. Then her eyes glowed white, and she snapped her fingers. A spark sprang from her hand and landed on his sleeve. He felt the heat of it immediately, and with a cry of dismay tried to beat it out.

  “Oh, does my flame bother you?” said the girl, laughing harder. “Here, perhaps this will help.”