Read Online Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) by Elizabeth McCoy - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth McCoy
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steeping preparations, sniffing even the
sealed jars. Kessa clenched her fingers in the blanket to keep from
doing anything stupid. Saying anything stupid, that might reveal too
much, or remind him of crazy proposals better left forgotten.
At
least she knew who'd rummaged in her basket, in the prison. He put
everything back where he'd gotten it.
She
was surprised he spent time prodding at her herb-witchery accounts. Those've nothing to do with blighted Darul's dosing. She
nearly called out that if he wanted the full household calculations,
he'd have to get the book from under her bed – but why help
him put her life under his enlarging lens?
Besides,
the true accounts were hidden with the other things she didn't want
found. The outward-facing wall was lathe and plaster, so the shop
wouldn't be ugly, but there was a narrow space between the lintel and
one of the roof beams in the storeroom. Her hand could get there; an
advantage to being small.
As
he continued examining her stock, at the shelf with her dried
maiden's blood and the bowl for it, Kessa's curiosity finally won
over quiet good sense. "The other two brews," she called,
voice wavering more than she liked. "What were they?"
There
was a forced cough. "Inappropriate ones. True alchemy formulae."
Not
illegal. Inappropriate . That left two options: one pertaining
to the sizing of anatomy, the other to causing unthinking lust. And
he'd said he didn't think even her immunity could've blocked
it all.
She
couldn't think how she'd be affected by anything that changed a
body's shapes. She'd tried the same potion that'd bleached her
crèche-brother Burk's brown eyes to amber, when he'd been caught
pickpocketing once too often. Her eyes hadn't changed – though
Burk's had remained stable till Tanas insisted he turn them green and
anonymous.
That
left lust-potions, that Maila'd told her to avoid, lest they weaken
her blood with momentary thoughts. She couldn't speak past the
horrified outrage boiling up. That blighted . . .
salted, trampled field of a moneylender! Had that been in the tea
Darul'd tried to press on Laita when suggesting how she might
work off her debt? If the man'd not been mind-damaged, Kessa might've
taken up the black pants and tunic again, tying her hair back and
wearing her knife at her belt. And that was even without fearing what
such a brew might've done to Laita's fragile health . . .
Blight
it. They'd had a good apartment. But Laita'd sickened again, for
all that Kessa'd made healing brews. Jontho couldn't steal enough to
cover the rent, not without risking too much; it needed the earnings
of the most beautiful tavern lass in the dock district.
They'd
been too proud to move Laita in with Kessa, though she'd insisted she
could get a blanket and sleep out front. She couldn't force them. She
couldn't pay for their apartment, either, so they'd tried to keep the
good rooms with a loan without questions, as Kessa'd gotten from
Darul before.
Kessa
would've helped Jontho buy an apprenticeship, but he didn't have the
training to back a forged journeyman's certificate – and a
real apprenticeship, even to a master who paid wages for his
students' scutwork, couldn't buy what Laita needed.
She
wiped at her eyes, and cursed whoever'd put another blighted potion
in blighted Darul's blighted tea. It would've been perfect, if only
he'd woken up sane, thinking Laita "a sickly wench, beneath his
notice."
Her
Guild Master was too quiet. She leaned to see him better. He sat
there, his fist wrapped around the glow . . . around
the Incandescens stone. She could make out dim redness
outlining his fingers; her beast eyes weren't beast-sharp, but they
worked as well as any other woman's in darkness.
He
shifted closer to her bed and sat again, silent.
What's
he doing? Surely he couldn't sniff out her hidden stores? There
weren't many, and they were in jars. It was only her imagination that
she could sometimes catch whiffs of them from her
sealed jars. Kessa clenched her fingers in the blanket to keep from
doing anything stupid. Saying anything stupid, that might reveal too
much, or remind him of crazy proposals better left forgotten.
At
least she knew who'd rummaged in her basket, in the prison. He put
everything back where he'd gotten it.
She
was surprised he spent time prodding at her herb-witchery accounts. Those've nothing to do with blighted Darul's dosing. She
nearly called out that if he wanted the full household calculations,
he'd have to get the book from under her bed – but why help
him put her life under his enlarging lens?
Besides,
the true accounts were hidden with the other things she didn't want
found. The outward-facing wall was lathe and plaster, so the shop
wouldn't be ugly, but there was a narrow space between the lintel and
one of the roof beams in the storeroom. Her hand could get there; an
advantage to being small.
As
he continued examining her stock, at the shelf with her dried
maiden's blood and the bowl for it, Kessa's curiosity finally won
over quiet good sense. "The other two brews," she called,
voice wavering more than she liked. "What were they?"
There
was a forced cough. "Inappropriate ones. True alchemy formulae."
Not
illegal. Inappropriate . That left two options: one pertaining
to the sizing of anatomy, the other to causing unthinking lust. And
he'd said he didn't think even her immunity could've blocked
it all.
She
couldn't think how she'd be affected by anything that changed a
body's shapes. She'd tried the same potion that'd bleached her
crèche-brother Burk's brown eyes to amber, when he'd been caught
pickpocketing once too often. Her eyes hadn't changed – though
Burk's had remained stable till Tanas insisted he turn them green and
anonymous.
That
left lust-potions, that Maila'd told her to avoid, lest they weaken
her blood with momentary thoughts. She couldn't speak past the
horrified outrage boiling up. That blighted . . .
salted, trampled field of a moneylender! Had that been in the tea
Darul'd tried to press on Laita when suggesting how she might
work off her debt? If the man'd not been mind-damaged, Kessa might've
taken up the black pants and tunic again, tying her hair back and
wearing her knife at her belt. And that was even without fearing what
such a brew might've done to Laita's fragile health . . .
Blight
it. They'd had a good apartment. But Laita'd sickened again, for
all that Kessa'd made healing brews. Jontho couldn't steal enough to
cover the rent, not without risking too much; it needed the earnings
of the most beautiful tavern lass in the dock district.
They'd
been too proud to move Laita in with Kessa, though she'd insisted she
could get a blanket and sleep out front. She couldn't force them. She
couldn't pay for their apartment, either, so they'd tried to keep the
good rooms with a loan without questions, as Kessa'd gotten from
Darul before.
Kessa
would've helped Jontho buy an apprenticeship, but he didn't have the
training to back a forged journeyman's certificate – and a
real apprenticeship, even to a master who paid wages for his
students' scutwork, couldn't buy what Laita needed.
She
wiped at her eyes, and cursed whoever'd put another blighted potion
in blighted Darul's blighted tea. It would've been perfect, if only
he'd woken up sane, thinking Laita "a sickly wench, beneath his
notice."
Her
Guild Master was too quiet. She leaned to see him better. He sat
there, his fist wrapped around the glow . . . around
the Incandescens stone. She could make out dim redness
outlining his fingers; her beast eyes weren't beast-sharp, but they
worked as well as any other woman's in darkness.
He
shifted closer to her bed and sat again, silent.
What's
he doing? Surely he couldn't sniff out her hidden stores? There
weren't many, and they were in jars. It was only her imagination that
she could sometimes catch whiffs of them from her
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