Chapter 481: Starting the Grind
Starting the Grind
Solday morning, Martel went to the workshops as he had done every fiveday since becoming a student at the Lyceum. Although this bell originally was meant for Martel to assist the artificer and thus pay for his stay at the school, Martel had spent it practising his enchantment for the past several months. But before he could begin this morning, Master Jerome entered the laboratory, making Martel wonder if he would be told to resume regular duties.
"Martel, afraid you're needed elsewhere. I would let you practice your skills, but you're one of the few mages at the school who can help with this."
The fire acolyte frowned upon hearing this; it was not what he expected, nor could he imagine what required his help in particular. "What is it, master?"
"Mistress Rana. She needs you in her laboratory. Asked if you could come help her today. And make sure you bring your key – the apothecary is locked, she said."
Strange; that never really happened during the day, as both students and nurses often needed to get remedies from the apothecary. Regardless, Martel had no reason to rebel. And he was rather curious what this was all about. "Alright. I'll go now."
"Good lad. Enchanting going well?"
"Yes, master, very well. I'm trying on different objects to see how long it lasts. Think I can make it last for over a month now."
"Well done. Alright, don't let me keep you." With those words, the artificer hurried along; at a calmer pace, Martel left as well.
***
After fetching his key, Martel went to the apothecary and let himself in. Locking the door behind him, he noticed the door leading to Mistress Rana's laboratory stood open, which he had never seen before. There was no sign of Nora, but most of the herbs from yesterday had been treated in various ways necessary. Mystified, Martel continued through the open door, up the stairs, and into Mistress Rana's sanctum.
"Finally, about time. You recognise these ingredients?" The alchemist pointed at a table with bundles of reagents.
Several of them Martel had handled himself yesterday. He also recognised amaranth, though it had a peculiar colour, suggesting it had been altered magically. One by one, Martel named each of them.
"You know the potion that requires these?"
Simple enough, considering he could only think of one that used this kind of amaranth. "The elixir for pestilence."
"Good. The most important question – do you remember the recipe?"
Martel would have liked to consult his notes, but as he recalled, it was relatively straightforward. "I believe so. The ingredients must be added in the very order that they are laid on the table at a low boil. Count at least a hundred breaths between adding the next one."
"Good enough. Get to work. Coals aren't burning much, but I assume you can handle fire." She pointed at the hearth, which had a cauldron and other tools ready. "If something goes terribly amiss, you may wake me, but otherwise, Stars help you if you disturb me unnecessarily."
Bewildered, Martel looked from the fireplace to the alchemist, who walked over to a corner of the laboratory and dropped herself on a cot. Martel was quite sure he had never seen that before in this place. Afraid to ask questions, Martel followed her latest instructions and began his task, igniting the coals with his magic. Staring at the ingredients, he felt unease creeping in, thinking about why he was told to create a cure for pestilence. Especially as he noticed, on another table, at least ten or more vials already stood, gleaming with magic.
***
Martel worked for four hours, the entire morning. When the noon bell rang, he had finished two potions and added them to those made by Mistress Rana. He wondered if he should begin on his third; if so, he would not be able to leave the laboratory until noon, making him miss dinner. But he could always go into town and buy something to eat later, and given the amount of ingredients left, it was clear that more elixirs had to be made.
Perhaps disturbed by the ringing of the bell, Mistress Rana stirred from her sleep and eventually sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the cot. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Two bells, mistress."
"So which one is it now?"
"It's noon. There'll be dinner served soon." Martel mentioned it mostly for his own sake; Mistress Rana seemed like she needed four more hours of sleep easily.
The alchemist got up and crossed the laboratory, blinking and rubbing her eyes. She picked up the two elixirs made by Martel. "Adequate, I suppose. Alright, you should rest a bit and eat dinner. Come back in an hour and continue working. I'll leave the laboratory unlocked, so just remember your key to the apothecary. If you make two potions this afternoon, Nora will come and relieve you. Understood?"
"Yes." Martel only hesitated briefly before he spoke again; while Mistress Rana did not appear to be in a talkative mood, he felt that he deserved to know why his labours were needed. "Mistress, why are we making all these elixirs? Besides the obvious answer to cure someone of pestilence."
She gave him a look, and given her sleep deprived state and appearance, he could not tell how to interpret it. "Do not spread this around, as people become agitated and irrational whenever they hear words like pox or plague. A ship from Sindhu arrived in port last fiveday, and it was discovered to have victims of pestilence. Naturally, none are allowed to enter or leave the vessel. The sooner that we finished these elixirs, the sooner we can prevent any further outbreak and perhaps save the lives of these unfortunate sailors. Does that answer your question?"
"Yes, mistress. I'll be back in an hour and continue working."
Either the alchemist did not hear, or she saw no need to reply; she was already busy grinding mustard seeds, and Martel left the laboratory without further words.
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