Chapter 274: Stirring
Stirring
When Martel arrived at the apothecary, he found Mistress Rana waiting for him. "Fetch the ingredients I gave you and join me upstairs," she commanded.
Quickly turning around, Martel went back to his room and collected the small heap of reagents. He had tried a few nights to infuse them with magic as directed, but the effect seemed negligible. A little worried, Martel hurried down the dormitory tower and walked once more through the apothecary, making his way to the laboratory.
His teacher extended her hand, and Martel placed the ingredients therein. "Still some way to go, to put it mildly." She examined each of them. "Well, you have time to learn. Perhaps I was optimistic handing you several pieces at once." She walked over to a worktable and picked up a single herb. "Practise on this until next time. For hours, do you understand? Do not expect this to come easily."
Martel nodded and received the small plant, placing it in his pocket.
"For now, we shall proceed." Mistress Rana closed her hand around the ingredients, and Martel noticed a faint glow. As she unfurled her fingers, each of the leaves and roots had a shimmer to them. It looked like they bristled with magic. As always, Martel felt envy witnessing the display of powers beyond his ability, but at least in this case, it could be rectified.
The alchemist walked over to the hearth, collecting a small pot on her way. Martel followed. "The process for most potions, certainly the simpler kind, tends to be the same." She placed the pot on the cold fireplace and poured water from a nearby jar into it. "This is just water. The more delicate recipes might call for something more extravagant, but for this, ordinary water will do. Its purpose is mostly to be a container that binds the magic together, creating the elixir."
Martel was reminded of Master Alastair's description of the elements as vessels for magic; perhaps a similarity between the Asterian and Sindhian crafts.
"As for the process itself, we simply boil the ingredients together and stir. Until we have the desired result. Now, I assume getting a fire going is within your abilities?"
The acolyte blinked, taking a few moments to understand. He looked at the coals in the fireplace, eager to burn. They ignited willingly.
"Good. Once the water boils, put in all the ingredients and keep stirring." Mistress Rana handled him a ladle. "Arm yourself with patience – it will take a while."
Martel accepted the weapon of an alchemist from her and watched the pot.
***
He spent the whole bell stirring. Alchemy was not swift magic, it seemed. Yet even if it felt dull to simply stand and stir for so long, Martel was fascinated to see the overall progress. Little by little, the ingredients boiling in the pot lost their magical shimmer, which seemed to flow into the water itself. By the end of the lesson, the liquid had a warm, orange glow, albeit faint.
Hearing the bell toll, Mistress Rana joined him. "As you can see, it’s simple enough so far. Bottling the potion is another trick entirely, but if I recall, you have a lesson now?"
"I do."
She nodded. "Next time, we'll do it when you have a spare bell afterwards. You can learn the final step of the process. Until then, practise drawing the magic out from the ingredient. Else nothing I teach you will be of any use."
Martel reached into his pocket, closing his fingers around the herb. "I will, mistress."
***
Once he had eaten supper, Martel left the castle for his assignment with the Night Knives. He wore his usual clothes – this was another task where they aimed to avoid attention – and had a small scrap of paper with an address to guide him. By now, the goods should have arrived and been stashed in an unassuming house by the docks; Flora and Marcus would already be there.
Their charge was simply to guard it through the night until morning came, where it would be loaded onto another ship and sailed out of Morcaster. Simple enough; she had even promised Martel he would have plenty of time to return to the Lyceum before second bell and his work with Master Jerome. But the promised money told Martel this had to be more complicated than explained, though the same lure of coin had convinced him to do it anyway.
He reached the building where he would spend the night; it looked like any other old house of the sort that could be found everywhere in poorer districts like the copper lanes. They were less frequent by the harbour, slowly being replaced by more stately homes for merchants or great insulae for the dockworkers. Probably this particular house only survived in its current form because it saw use by less savoury elements, such as the Friar and his people.
Martel wondered if the new Ninth Lord controlling the harbour district knew about this particular task done on his territory, and their use of this building. If the acolyte were to guess the reason for the large payment to the mercenaries, he would place his money on discord between two of the Nine Lords.
It almost made him reconsider and turn back, but he had made a commitment to Flora and Marcus. Besides, assuming he had read the address correctly, he had arrived.
He quickly walked up to the front door of the ramshackle building and knocked. Marcus opened and ushered him inside. "Good. Follow me." Inside, the layout of the house was as expected. One large room on the lower floor, though bereft of furniture; some blankets formed a simple bed in one corner, nothing else. "The goods are in the cellar." Marcus pointed at a hatch in the ground. "Flora is upstairs, watching the street. You'll take the next turn standing outside, watching the back alley. We rotate, meaning you'll be upstairs next, Flora gets to sleep, and I'll take your position. After that, you get to rest, Flora stays outside, I'm upstairs and so on." Marcus threw him a chain shirt. "Anything suspicious, don't fight. Run inside, bolt the door, and take position along the wall. Wake me up too, of course, and give a yell to Flora."
"If I hear her yelling?" Martel disrobed to put on the armour.
"Same procedure, except take position behind the stairs and watch the front door. I'll stand up against the wall."
Martel nodded, finishing up by placing his red robe over the armour and clasping his cloak around himself once more. Marcus gave him a staff and opened the door for him. "Enjoy your watch."
Stepping outside, the acolyte glanced around. A completely ordinary alleyway greeted him, as did the cold. He leaned the staff against the wall of the building, and rubbed his hands together for warmth. A long night lay ahead.
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