The rain had slowed to a misty drizzle when Athera and Tarquin reached the front gates. They had left the griffins on the pirate ship after some threats about what would happen if they tried to steal them again. It felt strange entering the city without Cedar, she thought as they stepped into Skystead. With only Soot on Tarquin’s shoulder, they had been afforded far less suspicious glances from the guard inspecting paperwork.

“I don’t like this,” Tarquin said as they made their way up one of the spiraling staircases. “We can’t trust a word out of that man’s mouth.”

“I know that,” Athera said as she sidestepped a rather haggard looking man carrying a stack of dusty books. “But this is our best chance to find Nestor—and the catalyst.”

“This isn’t about me not trusting—” Tarquin cut off as they came upon the automaton shop. The cheerful looking stained glass was there, but the doors had been barred closed.

They made their way over apprehensively. On the outside, the shop was in good shape. No windows had been broken, the door was in one piece, the brick had even been freshly painted. Through the windows was a different story. Gears had been strewn across the floor and a few of the shelves had been broken from the walls entirely. “Oh, Nestor,” Athera whispered.

“What happened?” Tarquin asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Pitty, isn’t it?” a woman asked as she strode by. “This was my favorite place to visit and it’s been closed for days with that mess just left in there. Constables haven’t been able to figure out anything either.”

“Days?” Athera asked. Nestor had only been gone a night.

“Yes. Ignis only knows what happened to that lovely girl.” The lady stepped beside them and peered into the windows. “Hang on, that’s a different mess than there was yesterday.”

Athera glanced at Tarquin as the woman pointed at the broken shelves. “Those weren’t like that, I need to go talk to those constables again, someone has been looting this poor girl’s shop.” She stalked off without another word.

“Looting isn’t necessarily a bad sign,” Tarquin said under his breath. “Especially if Nestor left with the shopkeeper in the first place.”

She glanced back through the windows. A broken automaton glistened dully from the floor. A fox with its head cleanly detached from its body and the joints in the tail shattered. “You think they’d do that if they were trying to loot?”

“Maybe they were trying to stage a break in, maybe…” Tarquin let the thought trail off as Athera gave him an incredulous glance. Soot chirped from his shoulder and he reached up to stroke the bird. “There’s no blood,” he said at last. “It doesn’t look like anyone was hurt.”

He was right of course, but it did little to ease the gnawing sensation in her stomach. As if everything before hadn’t been enough, she had to find Nestor before some blood thirsty alchemist did.

Alchemist.

“I’m supposed to be at a guild meeting!”

Tarquin’s bird screeched at her outburst and Tarquin himself looked alarmed.

“I’ll explain on the way, come on!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him after her, her heart soaring. Of course, who better to track down a catalyst and the wayward pirate that had sold it than an alchemist’s guild? And who better to confide in then the only other person who knew Nestor?

A couple of staircases later and Athera skidded to a halt in front of an ornate building with gorgeous stained glass windows depicting the skies above. One of the heavy wooden doors had been propped open and they could hear the faint buzz of people laughing and talking through it.

“Are you sure that I should be anywhere near an alchemists’ guild?” Tarquin asked.

“Yeah, you’ll do great,” Athera said, somewhat distractedly. “Besides, you’re better with people than I am.”

“Villagers. I’m better with the villagers.”

Athera froze as they stepped over the threshold. Somehow, the inside was more opulent than the outside. A great crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, dozens of candles casting odd shadows through the crystals. Oil paintings adorned the walls, each contained in heavy and expensive looking frames.

A group of men and women were gathered at the center of the room. Athera wasn’t sure what she had expected an alchemists’ guild to look like on the inside, but it certainly wasn’t the society before them. Each of them wore clothing befitting the building and Athera was suddenly very conscious of her own day-old clothes that she had been through a literal fight in.

Tarquin squoze her hand briefly and she shook herself. They had as much right to be there as anyone else in that room.

“Ah, Athera!” A lanky man broke away from the crowd to greet them. He wore a suit jacket with tails that nearly reached the floor in a rich, midnight blue. “I was beginning to fear you wouldn’t make it,” Alaric said. “And it is a pleasure to meet you, young man.” He held his hand out to Tarquin who took it reluctantly.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, sir,” Tarquin said after the silence stretched on for just a moment too long.

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“We’re all adults here. Alaric will do just fine,” Alaric said with a flourish of his hand. “Are you an alchemist as well?”

“Just a blacksmith,” Tarquin said quickly after shooting Athera a panicked glance. She tried to give him a smile of encouragement.

“A very important trade,” Alaric said briskly. “Come along, it’s time you met the others.”

The others had already stopped chatting and were watching them intently. she felt the sudden urge to pull at her mask, all too aware of the scarring that peaked out just above it.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Alaric said happily. “It’s time you meant Athera Leventis and,” he paused to look at Tarquin.

“Tarquin Varasi,” Tarquin said, his voice suddenly stronger.

“And Tarquin Varasi.” Alaric grabbed both Tarquin and Athera by the shoulders and steered them into the center of the room.

The gathered alchemists made room for them and a couple went back to chatting quietly. Still, a few continued to watch them curiously.

“So this is the kid from Apolia?” asked a tall and willowy woman.

Alaric nodded, just a little too absently for it to be fully convincing. “Tell me,” he said in a soft voice that Athera had to strain to hear. “What did your analysis of the sample yield?”

“Here Alaric?” the woman hissed back. She shot a glance a disdainful glance at Athera. Athera glared back.

“As much as you can in present company,” Alaric said, still feigning his bored tone.

The woman folded her arms. “Lime, silica, and quartz crystal,” she said as though those words were supposed to mean something.

“Nothing more…exotic?” Alaric asked hopefully.

“No. It’s not a pure transmutation, it’s…well, come along and I’ll show you.” She started off for a set of oak stairs. Alaric followed a moment later while gesturing for Athera and Tarquin to follow.

They were brought to an upper room, one that faced the street if she was remembering the starry stained glass properly. In the corner was a rather complex alchemy set that the woman walked up to and picked something up from. She held up a bottle containing layers of grayish white sand. “It’s cobblestone, Alaric,” she said, tossing it at him. “Nearly indistinguishable from another piece I ground up.”

He caught it with a frown. “How strange, I expected, well, something grander. Are you sure, Miriam.”

Miriam nodded and gave a disgusted wave at her alchemy kit. “I put it through every test I know. That sample is nothing but silica, lime, and quartz.”

It was Athera’s turn to frown. She had seen the transmuted area. That had not been normal stone. “How is that possible?” she asked before she could stop herself. “The stone felt soft.”

“An alchemist in the making,” Miriam said dryly.

Athera swallowed back the sharp retort that rose to her tongue.

“Our world is held together just as much by the shape of things as what those things are made of,” she said. She picked up a small, clear crystal and a vial of dark black powder. “Would you say that these are the same?”

“No, of course not,” Tarquin said.

“And yet, they are alchemically indistinct. The same material that makes up this charcoal is what makes up this adamantium crystal. The same is true of the sample dear Alaric brought me. The material is the same, but it has somehow been rearranged.”

“What does that matter?” Tarquin broke in. “Someone is still using a catalyst on the city, does it matter what they’re doing to it?”

Miriam’s gaze sharpened. “Alaric! What have you told these two?”

“Nothing, Miriam,” he said soothingly. “They came here to find the catalyst, they may be our key to finding it.”

She shot them another mistrustful glance.

“Pirates ransacked our village,” Tarquin said. He had stepped closer to Athera at some point. “That catalyst is one of the things they took. We need it back.”

“Pirates? That does explain…” Miriam trailed off. “Nevermind that, how close are you to finding it?”

“We…” Tarquin trailed off with a glance at Athera. How close were they? She didn’t know. More importantly, how much could they reveal without constables being sent after the pirates and Nestor?

“We have a lead,” she decided.

“So do dogs, my dear. What kind of lead?”

“A lead that we’re following,” Tarquin said before Athera could snap back.

“Don’t corner them, Miriam,” Alaric said with a soft laugh. “We don’t want to scare off our best chance at finding this rogue alchemist.”

“I like to know what my resources are,” she said with no change to her tone. “No matter, I’m headed back to the party.” She left, her scarlet skirt swishing.

“I apologize for her,” Alaric said once the click of the woman’s shoes had vanished. “Miriam means well, but she can be rather brash.”

That was an understatement.

“She’s anxious about these pirates,” Alaric continued. “We have connections with the constables, of course, but it’s difficult to track down such an elusive group. Let alone whomever they sold this catalyst to.” He let the silence settle on them glumly.

“Have you found anything?” Athera asked tentatively. Did she want to hear anything about Nestor? If news of her brother had reached the alchemist’s ears, would it be better or worse?

“I’m afraid someone with my standing has difficulty traversing Skystead’s underworld openly. Although Miriam’s discoveries are a tad worrying. I don’t relish the thought of an alchemist without the skill to even do a proper transmutation.” He shook his head in disgust.

“That’s why you want us,” Tarquin realized. “We can go places you can’t without damaging your reputation.”

“Well…that and I can’t pass up the chance to work with another Leventis. My resources and your flexibility and we’ll have this alchemist behind bars in no time.”

“I’m not sure how much I like being used,” Tarquin said. Athera nudged him, but the same worries were bubbling in her chest as well. “Seems like we should get something out of this.”

“Beyond the return of your catalyst?” Alaric asked with a shrewd smile. “Still, good business sense, my boy. What would you like from me?”

Tarquin looked at Athera, the question shining in his eyes. “You have connections to the officials in this city,” he said, never looking away from her.

“Of course, if you need the constables to look the other way while you investigate I can arrange for that.”

What Tarquin was getting at dawned on her. If Nestor had been captured, eyes on the prisons were exactly what they would need. She nodded to Tarquin and turned back to the alchemist. “Actually, there’s something we haven’t told you about. It’s about my brother, Nestor.”