Chapter 31: Power Trips, Eavesdropping, and Explaining Jokes

We whiled away the two hours at Karlinne’s over tea—iced and sweet for me—and pastry. I was antsy about getting back, with Magali amused at my impatience. I finally convinced him to head back to the Alchemy Guild, where we still had to sit for another hour before we got in to see Master Tounsel, waiting for Gaelia to come and get us. Of course, half that time was spent trying to get Maldyn to let her know we were there.

“So, you do not have an appointment on the books?” The little toadie sure enjoyed his job.

“Since I am Book, all my appointments are on me,” I laughed, inviting him to join me. No luck. “My name is Book, so…” If you have to explain the joke, then was it one? Maldyn certainly didn’t think so.

“Maldyn, please,” Magali tried to reason with him. “Ask Gaelia, she is expecting us.”

“Right, Magali. And her being secretly in love with you totally won’t get her to say yes, whether it’s true or not.”

Some secret. Magali blushed to his roots, liberally mixed with a flush of anger.

“Maldyn,” my friend paused, visibly taking control of himself. “Maldyn, please let Gaelia know…”

I don’t know who was saved from who, but Gaelia had impeccable timing, choosing that moment to walk out from the hallway behind the counter.

“Magali! Book,” she said, all cheerful smiles. “I was wondering if you guys were back.”

“For the last thirty minutes,” Magali had trouble getting the words past grinding teeth. I had never seen my easygoing friend this upset. Must have been the crack about Gaelia and him. Hmm, was there some truth to it?

“All good, no worries. Master Tounsel isn’t quite ready yet, anyway. I’ll take you down to his lab now.” She crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out behind Maldyn’s back, causing me to snicker and Maldyn to narrow his eyes at me.

We followed her through the twists and turns and descent, suffered the door-unlocking ritual to Tounsel’s lab, and were told to stand quietly against the wall while he finished the potion. At least it wasn’t noses to the corner (dunce cap! dunce cap!) in a timeout.

The Master alchemist fiddled, hemmed and hawed, then quick-stepped over to an only mostly cluttered counter by the door. His lab was arranged in rows of counters, each with a built-in sink and flame-less fire-gem placements that served the function of Bunsen burners. A mad scientist’s lab-or-atory wedded to a mad teacher’s 10th-grade science classroom. Different types of ‘mad’, or maybe not.

“Well,” the mad alchemist accused us. (You’s makan’ me ‘mad’!) “Don’t just stand there. Give me the money, then take the potion and leave.”

So we did, but when the three of us were on the other side of the door I had to ask. “OK, someone has gotta let me in on what’s going on. What’s the beef between Alric and Tounsel?”

“Beef?” Gaelia asked in confusion.

“Ignore it,” Magali replied. “That is just ‘Book talk’.” He put a finger in my face when I opened my mouth. “No jokes.”

Awww.

“He is from a little backwater village, Gaelia.” Yeah, that story was getting a little thin. “He talks in strange idioms, sometimes. You get used to it. And to answer your question, Book, they had a falling out over a woman.”

“For real? Who won…I mean, who did the woman choose?”

“Master Alric did. He was the romantic one…”—I choked on my own spit—“…and they ultimately got married. They even had a daughter.”

“But it didn’t end well,” Gaelia took up the story from Magali. “Master Tounsel is adamant it would have been different if she’d chosen him, instead.”

“Oh-ho.” I wanted—needed—more details. (Missing your soaps, huh?) I was ready to dig in, burrow deep down in the rabbit hole. Mmmm, rabbit.

“Some other time,” Gaelia said as she came to a stop at the end of the hall. “I need to get back.” I could tell she wanted to hang out more, but duty called.

“Definitely,” I said, then stole a look at Magali. “We should all get together, sometime, the Apprentice’s Club.” It was a spur-of-the-moment thought but sounded good. I missed having a circle of friends to get together with and be stupid.

“I’d like that, “ Gaelia sounded wistful.

“We could invite Paytin, and I’ll bring my roommate, Tess.”

“And Tak.” Now Magali sounded wistful.

What’s this?

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I gave him the one eyebrow lift—I was getting better. Must be all the practice. My own attitude toward Tak had cooled after, well, getting to know her better.

“What? She’s alrea’ part’o tha buis’ness.”

That was a clear enough sign. Did I step in it by inviting Gaelia? Oops. I never would have thought it, Magali liking Tak that way. It was too late to back out now, however.

“The ‘Ink Spot’? Seven-day night?" That's just clunky. "We’ll invite everyone.”

“Count me in!” Gaelia waved as she turned to head back to her Master. I noticed she took care and managed to stay out of Maldyn’s line of sight.

“Let’s go,” I told Magali. It was time and past that I returned to my Master with his potion. Watch it turn out to be something mundane like mouthwash (wink!), with me on a snipe hunt.

----------------------------------------

“Master Alric?” I arrived at the store and headed up the stairs. I knocked perfunctorily on the door, then let myself into Alric’s private quarters. “I have your potion,” I said, holding it out like a talisman to justify my presence. It was better than a pair of crossed popsicle sticks with a splash of holy water.

Alric and Mr. W. Were sitting opposite each other at a table, a marble game board with pieces strikingly similar to chess laid out on it. There were miniature castles, dragons, and spread-limbed trees assaulting fortified positions, all of them beautifully carved from semiprecious stones. I had no idea who was winning—or how the game was even played.

“Thank you, Book,” my Master said, motioning for me to bring it over.

I set the potion on the table at his left hand, while his right one fiddled with a horse and carriage carved from an orange-ish material. He placed it on the board, watching Mr. W.’s face as did so, before removing the stopper on the flask and taking a measured two swallows. He closed his eyes, relief painting his features. The relaxed muscles took years off his face, bringing back some of the color he'd lost.

“Thank you, Book.”

“Yes, Master. I’m glad I could help. W-what happened, sir?” I had at least some right to know, didn’t I? “Are you sick?”

He gave me a flat stare, and for a second I thought he might give me an answer.

“Mind yourself, apprentice. I believe that you have some work to do, downstairs?”

I should have known better (yep). What’s with all the perverse attitudes? Alric, Tounsel…Maldyn? Even Tak. Magali, Paytin, and Gaelia were nice, but still. The world wasn’t filled with Keebler Elves.

I pulled the door closed behind me, then paused as the sounds of a picked-up conversation reached me.

“…symptoms…worse…how long?”

“More frequent…caught me by surprise.”

Only sporadic bits were clear enough to hear, but it was enough to make me stay on the threshold.

“…tell Book?”

“No…don’t think…ready.”

“Sooner…later…”

“Yes…”

I was pushing my luck, staying there and listening. It was a lot to think about, so I headed down the stairs and to my workstation.

Where was I? It felt like forever since I had left in search of my Master's alchemic concoction. New ink for scrolls that were both practical, per Master Alric, and useful to an adventurer, as stated by my empty coin purse.

A scroll of [barrier] was next on my list. Setting the filter on my HUD, I went to the storeroom and wandered the rows of shelves to gather ingredients. I knew where the usuals were and quickly grabbed them, then searched for the Dire Swamp Ooze enzyme, the ‘cheap and easy…best for economy’. I found it in the…ulp!…living creature’s section. It was my least favorite aisle. It smelled, and things moved. Let’s not forget the ‘disgusting’ notation in Master Alric’s handwriting.

I stared at the murky aquarium, and something stared back. Blurp!, bubbles burst from the green-scummed water. There was an actual Ooze in the tank. Master Alric had given me some basic instructions on how to approach the slime when first teaching me to care for the storeroom and its inhabitants. Pulling on the heavy, leather mittens kept on the shelf above, I quickly reached into the gloop. ‘Never show hesitation’, the words of advice flooded my mind. I grabbed an edge of the creature, twisting and pulling until a good-sized piece popped off in my hands. It was like squishing a glob of your grandma’s Jello ring through your fingers, ugh. It even had little, crunchy bits in it, but they weren’t shredded carrots and pistachios. Even the dry cat food in Aunt Bethany’s Christmas dessert was more appealing.

I dropped it in a bowl I had readied, snagged a sealed jar of basilisk saliva, and carried the lot back to my table. Mere steps from my destination, I stubbed my toe on nothing—hey, air can be a menace (for you, maybe!)—and juggled the items, almost losing it all to gravity.

“Son of a…mother truc…Shit!” I caught it on the last swear. “Way to go, dumb-ass. Spill the saliva and turn your skin to stone, why doncha?”

Setting all of it down (carefully), I arranged everything to my liking, pulled the recipe book to me, and propped it up against the wall where my desk met the bare stone. An empty jar, previously holding my favorite snack of pickled mushrooms, worked to keep the book from sliding down.

‘Pour the basilisk saliva over the flesh of the Dire Swamp Ooze’, the recipe read. Leaving the protective mittens on, I did just that. The combination oozed and popped like drool on pop rocks (two for one pun, he-he). It was my turn to *groan*. I get it: Ooze/oozed; saliva/drool. Ha. Pause. Ha.

‘Once the Ooze flesh is fully petrified, use a mortar and pestle to break through the outer skin and grind it up. A slurry of the still-fluid inner flesh and the crust formed by the basilisk saliva is the desired result. Mix until homogeneous.’

Ah, my favorite tool, the chipped and worn mortar and pestle I inherited. I called him Mortimer, wink-wink. The resulting mess was the consistency of muddy-brown silly putty.

‘Once reduced to a singular substance, first making sure no reactions are still taking place, use a pressure sieve over intense [heat] and collect the pressed liquids in a condensation flask. Once gathered, add to the base ink mixture with the paraffin (or vermiculite, depending on the intended properties), then follow normal curing techniques.’

Got it. A combination of using a [heat] scroll—why use fire-gems when we literally made the scrolls in-house?—and forcing the mess through the finest mesh, collecting the vapors in a condensing coil, and adding a few milliliters to the usual silver-gray ink that flashed to a bright bronze, and the only thing left to do was to leave it overnight. Come morning, I would know if I had done it correctly. Maybe get a listed [skill], hint-hint?

Now what?

I checked the digital time displayed on my HUD, realizing the day had passed by, and I missed lunch! A good enough reason to knock off for the afternoon and get a sticky bun (or two!) on the way home. I listened for noise coming from upstairs, but there was nothing, and no thuds had interrupted my work. It was safe to leave.

I wondered how Tess would like our new rug.