[20 Days until the Gods’ Tournament]

[13 Days until Blackcloak membership is due]

I idly stir the cauldron with my right hand as I keep the alchemy book propped up on my knees, left hand scrolling down the page as I read through the book Lisari had lent me. She’s right: this is dense stuff. A lot of the theory it’s going through might as well be written in another language. But I don’t give up. I can’t. I get Echo to explain whatever she can elaborate on, and I try to infer whatever she can’t.

The first big difference between potions and alchemy is that alchemy uses spell circles where my potions had been made from pure ingredients. The first step is largely the same as potion making: first I have to mix ingredients and meet certain conditions, like heating things up or cooling them down. But instead of adding a bit of magic to complete the process, this is where things turn a little more occult. Some alchemy spells require candles or crystals, and nearly all of them require the user to draw an alchemic circle, within which the potion mixture (or other materials) must be placed. The magic is then added to the spell circle instead of directly mixed into the draught, which will, theoretically, create the desired effect.

Looks like I’ll be needing some chalk.

It’s different from what I’ve been practicing, but being able to do alchemy would open up a whole other field of magic to me. It seems a lot of other fields of the arcane also use spell circles, but generally speaking those spells require a good amount of mana, whereas my natural quantity of mana is about the level of a magically stunted toddler. It seems, at least, this won’t stop me from being able to do alchemy, anymore than it’s stopped me from making potions: it’ll just limit the potency and quantity of whatever I’m working with. I wonder if the Blackcloak Guild might have something that can help me overcome my pathetic excuse for a mana pool.

I flip through the handful of alchemic spells Lisari marked for me.

Potion for enhanced strength: increases the user’s fortitude and power.

Potion of augmentation: boosts the potency of any potion it’s added to.

Swift Step: increases the user’s speed.

I’m excited to try all of them out, but I lack the ingredients and equipment for most, so I’ll need to head back to Fairwood first. Maybe I can talk Talia and Lisari into lending me the stuff. Talia would probably frown on the idea, but I suspect Lisari would be excited to further my foray into alchemic experimentations.

“You’re going to burn the stew,” Iski says.

I jump, not having noticed Iski sneak up on me. She makes a habit of doing that. “You startled me.”

“The stew.” Iski gestures. “You stopped stirring. Honestly, if you’re not even going to be paying attention to the food you’re supposed to be watching, what’s the point of working in here?”

“Sorry,” I say, reluctantly closing the book and setting it aside. “I was distracted.”

“You’ve been distracted the last two days, ever since you got back from Fairwood.” Iski catches sight of the cover. “Alchemy, huh? I hope you’re not planning on practicing that in here.”

“No!” I object, hurriedly turning my attention back to the cauldron and dragging the giant ladle around the pot. “I promised I wouldn’t do anything in here again.” Which is why I’ve been doing everything in my bedroom.

“No practicing anywhere near customers,” Iski clarifies as if reading my mind.

I hesitate.

“Aha!” she points a finger at me. “I knew it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I can’t stop practicing altogether! This is too important.”

“Why?” Iski demands. “I’ve never seen someone become so obsessive with magic before. You’ve no natural inclination for it, either. Why not pick up something that better suits your talents?”

The words sting, even though I know she isn’t wrong. “I can’t,” I tell her. “I just have to get stronger.” Because the gods want me dead for being from another planet. Because if I can’t kill Maru first, I’ll almost certainly die in the tournament. Because in the next two weeks, I’ll need to poison a man, or the Blackcloaks will kill me.

Iski’s frown softens. “You can talk to me, you know. Or Gugora. I can tell how fond he is of you. We might not be family, but we’re here to help.”

A ball of emotions threatens to rise up my chest, and I swallow it down. “I know. Thank you.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Iski purses her lips like she has more to say about that response, but in the end all she does is shake her head. “Just think about it,” she says, turning to head back out of the kitchen. “And don’t burn dinner!”

#

I’m not given much of an opportunity to practice any alchemy that day or the next, not least because I’m lacking on equipment and access to a fireplace. Gugora and Iski keep me busy cleaning the tavern, prepping meals, and tending to the garden—maybe to make up for the day I spent in Fairwood. I don’t mind terribly, as I use the opportunity to work on my Knifework and Soft Step skills and my Agility stat. By the time I find five minutes of free time, I’m beat.

Heading up to my room to develop some of my in-work potions, I freeze when I find the door open. The floor is clean. My potions are gone. First disbelief, then anger flashes through me.

“Iski!” I call, dashing down the stairs. “Gugora! Where’s my stuff?!”

“Calm down,” Iski snaps. She’s at the front desk, checking in a traveler. “You’ll scare all our clients away.”

“My room!” I object, darting a glance at the newcomer. He glances between Iski and I, clearly uncomfortable. I take a steadying breath. “Please where’s my stuff?”

She waves me on, still writing on the ledger and sorting through the coins. “Go talk to Gugora. He’s the one who’s been up there. I think he’s out in the—”

I don’t even let Iski finish, turning and sprinting for the garden. He wouldn’t have dumped all my stuff outside, would he? Not without talking to me first? I mean, I did promise I wouldn’t do any more potion making in the kitchen, but they said nothing about my bedroom!

Given how long my mana takes to recover, and how little of it I have to begin with, losing all my potions and ingredients now would set me back over a week, and I don’t have a week to lose.

I burst outside, skidding to a stop before the garden. He isn’t here. “Gugora!” I call, rounding the side of the inn. “Where—”

I nearly crash into his side, managing to pivot away at the last moment before I do any real damage to myself.

“Ah, there you are,” he says, turning to me. His arms are filled with bottles and pouches.

“My potions!” I cry. “Give them back!”

He grumbles and frowns. “Yours, hm? I seem to recognize these bottles from my storeroom. And where did you get the ingredients?”

“From the forest,” I say. Well, that’s true for most of them.

Gugora seems to know this as well. “The pebbleback crystals, too? The jackalope horn?”

“Please,” I say. “I’ll pay you back for the materials. Just don’t throw them away!”

“Payment is not the issue,” Gugora says. “Keeping these in our inn, is. The room next to yours is public. What happens if you spill something dangerous?”

“I haven’t,” I say. “I’ve been careful!”

“Everyone makes a mistake eventually,” Gugora says. Even so, he shuffles the armful of bottles, leaning down toward me. “Well, you’re here now, so you might as well carry them.”

“Thank you,” I start to say, snatching my potions from his grasp. “I promise I’ll be—”

“Not so fast,” Gugora says. “You’re not taking those back to the inn. Follow me.”

Gugora turns and strikes out from Starlight, and I hesitate, considering making a break for it. I can’t take them back to my room, though, and I’m not sure where else to stash them. Reluctantly, potions in hand, I follow after him.

It only takes me a minute to recognize the path we’re taking. “The butcher shed?” I ask.

He nods with a grunt, but doesn’t elaborate.

At least this time I’m pretty sure he won’t be murdering me in a remote location, but I can’t guarantee the same safety for my precious potions. When we approach the small cabin, all the sun-dried meats are gone from the racks outside. The area still smells strongly of tanning hides and death, but not as overpowering as it had before.

Gugora pushes the door open, gesturing me inside.

Weapons still adorn the wall. The room is still dark and stained with the smell of offal. But there’s changes as well, namely, a table where several of my potions are already placed, and a fresh stack of wood by the fireplace, where a large, shiny cauldron has been placed.

“If you’re going to be doing such magic,” Gugora says, “I’d rather it not be a risk to the guests.”

I look up at him dumbly. “You mean it? I can really work here?”

“Don’t make me regret it,” he says, though beneath all the tusks and grumbling, I think I can make out a smile.

I begin to set my potions down on the workbench, already imagining how I could use this place. A cauldron of my very own would do wonders! I can go back to recipes that require boiling. And if I can get some chalk, there’s plenty of floorspace to work on some alchemic circles. Not to mention, this room is four times the size of my bedroom. I can stash way more herbs and materials in here! Now if I can just borrow some more alchemy equipment and potion ingredients from the Blackcloak Guild…

“Sal?” Gugora repeats. “Did you hear me?”

“What?” I say, jerking up from the table. “Sorry.”

He sighs. “I said, the weapons are still off limits.” He taps a bow mounted to the wall. “I didn’t have time to move them, but I also don’t have a better place for them to be stored. Understand? This is a requirement for using this space: you are not allowed to use or borrow any weapons without prior consent. I am trusting you on this.”

“Understood,” I say. I don’t intend to mess with them, anyway. I’m just barely starting to be competent with a knife after three weeks of practice; I don’t have time to learn a new weapon. Plus, knives are way more covert. “I won’t touch any of them. Promise!”

Gugora doesn’t seem particularly convinced, but I guess he’s equally unwilling to press the point. “Good. Then one final piece of advice: be careful.”

I can’t help but snort at that. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

He chuckles. “It does seem futile. But I can try.” He rests a massive hand on my shoulder. “Sal… You’ve had a rough start here. But you can still find peace. What you do with the tiles you’ve been dealt rests in your hands.”

I purse my lips, biting back a retort. A rough start sure is a laughable understatement. And peace isn’t exactly what I’m looking for. “Thanks,” I say anyway, not wanting to disappoint Gugora. “I’ll think about that.”

His hand slips from my shoulder. “That’s all I ask.”

He removes a key from his pocket and offers it to me. I reverently take it from him, clasping it with both hands.

“Don’t lose it,” he says.

“I won’t.”

“If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

“I will!”

His gaze shifts up from my eyes, and he nods toward my headband. “And if you ever want to talk about that, I’m here to listen.”

My throat tightens. Beneath the cloth, I can feel Maru’s mark burn.