Chapter 29: Master?, Master!, and Burrito Rug

I rushed up the stairs to Master Alric’s apartment, pausing only long enough to use my spell on the door. It worked, Bless her roots, the door swinging open with force as I put too much [mana] into [Apprenticeship Unlock] in my haste. I quickly looked around, searching for what had made the sound. Sprawled out on the floor lay my Master, a low moan escaping his lips. I ran to him and knelt by his side.

“Master?” I said and gave him a gentle shake. “Master Alric, can you hear me?”

He groaned again, eyes scrunched closed in pain. Next to him on the floor was a medium-sized shattered glass flask, I’m guessing that was the crash after the thud. A puddle of neon green liquid soaked the large throw rug under my Master, staining the white and blue checked pattern, looking like a toxic waste spill from a cartoon. It glowed in pulses, giving off some wisps of vapor. Not knowing if the fumes were dangerous, I grabbed Alric by the shoulders and pulled him off the rug and away from the spill.

“Master!” I shook him harder this time, eliciting another groan. Panic and confusion warring in the glossy orbs, his eyes fluttered at me. “It’s OK, it’s me. Book. Are you alright? What can I do?”

He blinked owlishly, clarity and reason slowly creeping back in as he focused on me.

“B-Book? What happened? Why am I…on the floor? And what are you doing in my quarters? I didn’t give you permission.”

“I heard a crash from my workshop, so I came up. I found you on the floor, next to a busted flask.” His arrogant demeanor surfacing was a good sign, or at least I hoped so.

At my mention of the broken flask, a touch of fear crossed his face and he struggled to sit up. I got my arms under him and helped haul his bulk upright. I held on to him and he staggered a moment, looking for his balance. As soon as he found it I let go, knowing he did not care for physical contact.

“Ashes! My potion,” he looked forlornly at the scattered shards of glass amidst the neon puddle. He staggered a few steps closer to it, hands making a grasping motion. “That was my last one,” he mumbled to himself. I had never before heard such a morose tone come out of him.

“Master?” I asked again like it was the only word I knew. Alric’s legs shook so I hastened to hover at his side, ready to catch him if needed.

He glanced at me and made to shoo me away, then reconsidered. “Book, help me to a chair.” He waved me closer, wrapping an arm across my shoulder as I went to support him.

We staggered together towards a heavily padded armchair set under a large window. I moved a footstool out of the way with one foot, then maneuvered to help rest his bulk in the chair. He let out a great sigh, accompanied by a complimentary sigh of air from the seat cushions.

“Thank you, thank you.” He waved me away, now that he was settled.

“Master, what happened? What was in the flask?” I was still repeating myself, but had at least found a few more words to fill it out. “Are you sick? Is that why you left me that note?” Alric started at the word ‘sick’, and gave me a suspicious look.

“Nothing that concerns you, Apprentice," he said, formality firmly taking its accustomed place. “Do not overstep yourself, Book.”

“I’m just worried, Master. That is all.” I pointedly looked over at the mess on the ruined area rug. “That potion,” how do I ask this, without bringing him down on me? “Was it important? Something for your…health?” I braced for a tongue lashing over crossing a boundary.

His face scrunched, a sure sign of an impending dressing down, then it suddenly relaxed in resignation. Another sigh escaped him. “Yes, it was important…for my health. A tonic for an old malady. That was my last one, too.”

“Just tell me where to go, Master, and I’ll be happy to fetch another one.” I wanted to ask about the mysterious ‘malady’, but knew better. I was glad that he had opened up to me even this much.

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He considered me with a piercing gaze, judging and weighing how much he wanted to involve me. I guess I passed the test when he relented. “Fine, Book. Go to the Alchemy Guild, it’s in the square with the other main Guilds. Ask for Master Tounsel. Whoever is manning the front will most likely make it difficult for you, saying he isn’t available to the public. That is what he tells them to say. Be persistent, and tell them that you are my apprentice and that I sent you. They'll test your patience, but don’t give up, you hear? Go through his apprentice, Gaelia, if you have to. In fact, that might be easier for you. Tell her that you need my usual order early. You will probably have to wait while it is being made.”

“No problem, Master. I’ll wait as long as needed. You can count on me.” He really could, too. He’d given me a chance, taking on the burden of training me and giving me a place in this new world. I owed a lot to the man. Besides, I would always help someone in need, if it was in my power. I was awesome that way (dislocate your shoulder patting yourself on the back, why donch’a?). Thinking—hearing?—that meant I was calm, again. “Will you be OK while I’m gone? I could get, umm,” who would look in on him? “Uh, Mr. Wordsworth, I could ask him to come over, and check on you.”

“You will do no such thing, Book. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, after all.”

Then why did I have to come up here? I carefully did not say it.

“Yes, Master.” I gave him one last concerned look, then turned to leave. When I was almost to the door, he called out.

“Take the rug with you, it is ruined. You can toss it in the garbage out back.”

I stopped, then turned back and walked over to the mess. Kneeling, I rolled it all up together, glass shards, radioactive spill and all. It was a large rug, making a burrito of epic proportions. I got it up on one shoulder, half of it sagging down my back. I got to the door and started reaching for the handle when Master Alric called out to me for the second time.

“Book.”

I turned awkwardly, regarding my Master with a raised eyebrow (failed, as usual!), OK, raised forehead, and answered. “Yes, Master?”

“While I appreciate the willingness, if you have enough coin to pay for my potion yourself, then I must be giving you far too large of a stipend, hmm?”

Oh, yeah. Money, such an inconvenience. I felt the heat of a blush creep up to the tips of my pointy ears. “I, uh…” I stumbled.

“There is a drawer in the side table over there,” Alric said, a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth up. “Inside it is a small chest. Bring it to me.”

I shifted the weight on my shoulders and took a step toward the indicated table.

“Book?”

“Yes?”

“Put the rug down first.”

If my ear tips weren’t burning already, they would be flaring up now.

I struggle to put my burden down, ending up letting the heavy roll slide down my back to the floor by the door. I went and opened the drawer, finding it deeper than it should be—magic!—and grasped the locked chest inside it. Ooof! Damn, it was a lot heavier than I expected. I shifted my grip to get a better hold, then walked it over to the chair Master Alric sat in, and put the chest down on the small folding table sitting next to the armchair. The thing looked exactly like a TV tray, the spitting image of the one I ate my dinners on in my tiny studio in Boulder. Admittedly, Alric’s was a much nicer version than my stained and dented one, with the mishmash of condensation rings vaguely resembling the Olympic rings.

My Master shifted in his chair, turning the chest so the opening faced him. A look of concentration settled on his features, his dark green eyes either flashing with magic or reflecting a gleam of sunlight from the window. Magic, obviously, given where I was.

The iron-bound chest (pirate treasure, me matey!) whirled and clicked, a complicated locking mechanism releasing the lid, which slowly opened itself on oiled hinges. Master Alric counted out a handful of gold coins—golds, not coppers or silvers!—and put them in a little cloth pouch he then handed to me.

“How much…” I started to ask.

“Never you mind. Just give Master Tounsel the pouch. But get the potion first, understand?”

“I understand, sir.” I tried to judge the number of coins by the weight, but it far outweighed—ha!—my experience.

I hung the purse opposite from my own meager one--I didn’t want my coppers to get jealous--then struggled the heavy bundle of fabric back onto my shoulder. Navigating the stairs was a bit tricky, overbalanced as I was, but I managed without taking a tumble. I didn’t head around back with it, but instead started carrying down the cobbles of Parchment Lane before I had a sudden thought and stopped. Instead, I lugged the burden across the street, and, yes, I looked both ways first.

I set the rolled rug down outside Mr. Wordsworth’s store, then poked my head in the door.

“Mr. Wordsworth?” I called out. I started when he answered me from just behind the door and off to the side, not expecting him to be so close.

“Book, how can I help you, lad?”

I hesitated, as Master Alric’s words about not involving anybody else ran through my mind. Mr. W must have seen the conflict on my face.

“What’s happened, Book?”

So I told him about how I found Alric. And before I could say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious—that’d be a great name for a spell, wouldn’t it?—“Wordsworth’s” was locked up and Magali shouldered half the ruined rolled rug (he-he) as the two of us headed to the Guild square, with a planned stop at my apartment. I couldn’t afford to worry about toxic stains, and the hardwood floors of my place got chilly in the mornings. I was grateful for the extra help.

And, we’re off to see the…Alchemist.