“You don’t think it’s a little bit strange?” Tarquin asked impatiently.

“I never said that,” Athera protested.

Tarquin let out a short breath and took a bite out of his sandwich. The pair of them were settled outside one of the mid level cafes for a late meal. After everything that had happened at the guildhouse, they had both wanted somewhere else to discuss everything.

“That catalyst is not natural,” Tarquin said, his voice hushed.

“None of them are. That’s the whole point of them.” Athera couldn’t resist breaking in.

Tarquin glared at her before sighing. “You know what I mean. Athera, you saw Alaric and Miriam, they looked awful.”

He was right, of course. Alaric in particular had seemed ready to collapse at any moment. “What do you want us to do about it?” Athera asked, pushing those thoughts down. Alaric’s experiments were nowhere near the top of their list of priorities. They still had to find Nestor. “I doubt either of them would listen if we told them to stop. It’ll probably be fine in a couple of weeks once they get the kinks worked out.”

Tarquin stared at her. “There is no way you believe that.”

Athera opened her mouth to retort but the way Tarquin’s eyes bored into her and the twinge in her gut wouldn’t let her.

Tarquin nodded, taking her silence as his answer. “You’re the alchemist. You know more than I do, but everything I’ve read since getting to this infernal city makes it very clear that something like those golumns should not exist.”

That wasn’t entirely true. The books they had been studying from had mostly covered natural alchemy. Things that didn't need a catalyst to begin with. Ones that could be charged had always been theorized about. She paused. How did she know that?

“Does it even matter?” she tried.

“I hope it doesn’t,” Tarquin leaned back against his chair. “I just don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. Although I guess this means you don't want to move into the guildhouse anymore?”

That earned a half smile from Tarquin. “I don’t know. The alternative is pirates. On their ship.” He wrinkled his nose in exaggerated disgust.

Athera took a bite of her sandwich. They weren’t common in the village, and these ones lacked so much of the flavor she had grown up with as a child. The one’s she had grown up with had usually consisted of stewed meat, spices, and fresh vegetables and herbs. The Skystead version usually consisted of a mixture of vegetables, fresh bread, and some sort of sauce she was not familiar with. Good, but not as good as the original. Tarquin liked them though.

“With any luck we’ll have everything we need before we have to move in with either,” Tarquin was continuing to muse. He glanced to the sky where the sun was starting to tinge the dusky blue orange. “Might be about time to head back.”

Athera stood after finishing off her tea and Tarquin did the same.

The sunset had cast Sksyead into a brilliant orange cast by the time they made it back to the guildhouse. As usual, the main hall was full of alchemists, most chatting casually, a couple comparing notes on their latest experiments, and one older man dozing off by the hearth. Athera could recognize almost all of them, although most of their names were still out of reach.

As Tarquin closed the heavy oak door behind them, one of the alchemists in a long dress and cloak stood. “Alaric said you might show up,” she said with a polite smile. Violet was her name. “He and Miriam should be back any minute.”

As she spoke, the door creaked open and a rather haggard Alaric stood in the frame. He regarded them with mild surprise before his customary smile slid into place. “Ah. Good to see the two of you. I didn’t think you’d both be back for a while yet. Come, come,” he beckoned for them to follow, the tails on his suit jacket fanning out behind him.

Athera glanced at Tarquin and followed after the pair of alchemists.

“How did that guild business go?” Tarquin asked as Alaric led them down a set of stairs.

“Hmm?” Alaric paused and glanced at Miriam.

“It was just a minor issue,” she said shortly. “Nothing we couldn’t handle.”

“Anything to do with those gollums?” Tarquin asked. Athera nudged him. He wanted to ask about that now?

“Not directly,” Alaric shot them a tired smile. “I’ll tell you more about it when we get there. There’s simply too many prying ears here.”

They followed him to a dingy building with dilapidated windows near the lower levels. Without a second thought, Alaric stepped inside. Athera glanced at Tarquin who shrugged. It wasn’t the strangest thing they had seen the alchemist do, but he looked so out of place with his tailored suit.

Athera followed, glancing back at Miriam who was still making up the rear. The woman’s crimson dress was coated in a fine layer of white dust. They had been down here before, it seemed.

Inside abandoned chairs were stacked on tables and a spiralstair case sunk out of view.

“It’s the city core,” Miriam said by way of explanation. Alaric was apparently too busy actually walking down the staircase to say anything. “Old abandoned maintenance tunnels for the most part.”

“The sewers?” Tarquin asked, sounding none too pleased about that.

“Part of it, but not where we’re going.” She gestured for them to follow after Alaric.

“Some experiments are better kept safe down here than in the guildhouse. You know just how volatile alchemy can be.”

From beside Athera, she could hear Tarquin’s breath catch and willed him not to say anything.

“How well do you remember your parents’ alchemy projects, Athera?” Alaric asked as he took a torch from the wall and ignited it.

She frowned. “They only taught me the basics.”

“Not what you were taught. How much do you remember of what they did?”

“She was eleven,” Tarquin broke in. “How is she supposed to remember anything at that age?”

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Of course,” Alaric said with a wave of his hands. “The research we’re working on here is largely built off of what we developed back in Apolia. Unfortunately so much of our research was lost in that fire, it’s taken eight years to piece it back together.”

Athera nearly stopped in her tracks. “The catalysts?” she couldn’t resist asking.

“Yes, exactly,” Alaric led them down another set of stairs. That was how many now? They had to be at the ground level of the city by now, or perhaps below it?

“Both of your parents were brilliant alchemists, but your mother was something special. In Apolia we were researching ways to extend the life of our catalysts, and she found a way to actually do it!” As Alaric spoke, his sleeve pulled back slightly. Athera blinked. It was discolored, pale, nearly translucent. Then the sleeve fell back into place.

“Miriam and I have nearly replicated it, maybe improved it, but our version just doesn’t have the level of energy conservation the original did,” Alaric continued. He opened a door and froze.

Athera peaked over his shoulder. It looked to be an ordinary room. A single table with a couple of ancient chairs and piles of books surrounding it.

“Well,” Alaric cleared his throat. “I believe I’ve found the wrong room.”

Miriam shouldered her way past, and Athera couldn’t help but notice how her gaze lingered on the small window that overlooked a street.

“This should do fine, Alaric,” she said, looking back at them. “Plenty of the notes are here anyway.”

“Right you are, Miriam,” the alchemist said, with a note of too forced cheeriness. “Come, come, it’s time we told you everything.”

Athera glanced at Tarquin who nodded. For as strange as the alchemists were acting, this was still their best shot of finding Nestor and recovering the catalyst. She took a seat at the dusty table. While the center of the table was coated in a layer of dust and grime, the edge where she sat had been wiped clean. Someone had been there recently.

“Have you found Nestor?” she asked, turning from the table. One thing at a time. Tables didn’t matter.

“Yes,” Alaric beamed. “In fact, he’s not far from here. The prison is directly below us.”

A confusing mixture of annoyance and relief washed over Athera. “Let’s go get him, then. If he’s right here, we--”

Alaric held up his hands to stop her. “Before we go, there’s a few things you have to know.”

“Why can’t you tell us after? Nestor--”

“Has been down here for a week. He’s scared and unwilling to trust any of the city authorities, me included.”

“Of course he’s scared!” The outburst came with more volume than she intended and she swallowed. “Just let me talk to him. I can explain what’s going on.”

Tarquin cleared his throat uncomfortably. The last time Athera had tried to talk to Nestor, it had ended with her brother running away from her.

Apparently Alaric agreed, because he just raised an eyebrow. “We will need to have a united front in order for him to trust us. I’ve spoken with him, and I’m afraid he’s just not receptive.”

“Does he have to be?”

“He’s a sky pirate.” Tarquin said it quietly, but the words still hit Athera has though he had shouted them at her.

Alaric nodded. “He was not imprisoned unjustly. For him to be released, he would have to be released into my custody, and in order to do that, he needs to at least seem like he’ll behave for the city guard.”

Athera swallowed back the wave of disappointment. They still knew where he was. He was safe. That was more than she had nearly dared hope for.

“Then explain that to him.”

“He did,” Miriam broke in. She had not taken a chair, opting to stand just behind Alaric in front of the window. “We need you to.”

“Of course I will, just show me--”

“Athera, there’s a few more things you need to know, before I take you to your brother.” Alaric said. His tone was sharper and she sat back.

“Alaric?” Miriam asked.

“It’s time, Miriam,” Alaric said tiredly. He turned back to Athera and Tarquin. “Both of you have done so well these past weeks. I’ve been thoroughly impressed with your tenacity and resourcefulness…but I’m afraid you haven’t had the full truth.” As he spoke, Athera caught another glimpse of his wrist just hidden beneath the suit jacket. She wasn’t imagining it, the area was definitely paler than his natural hue. It seemed to glimmer, as though it were made of frosted glass.

“There hasn’t been a rogue alchemist loose in the city, at least, not in the way I would have had you believe.”

Beside her, Tarquin stiffened.

Miriam slowly pulled something from her pocket, revealing a strange device made of golden wirings that held two gemstones. A ruby and a sapphire.

“You…” she trailed off.

Alaric nodded. “It really is a marvel. The only catalyst in recorded history that doesn’t shatter. With it, great things can be accomplished.”

“You ordered the attack on our village!” Tarquin stood, his chair being knocked to the ground in the motion.

“Sit down, Tarquin,” the alchemist said quietly. “The order was to harm no civilians.”

“Why?” it was all Athera could manage to choke out as she stared at those twin gemstones. But even as she said it, she knew why.

“Our experiments weren’t working. I needed something to copy, something proven beyond what even your parents were capable of. Something beyond the entirety of our alchemical knowledge.”

“So you hired a band of pirates?” Tarquin snorted. “What would you have done had they gone rogue? What if they had hurt someone? They took Athera’s griffin.”

“A…what?” Miriam asked.

Alaric ignored her.

“It would have been a terrible, but necessary sacrifice,” Alaric said with his shoulders slumping. “Ignis is in a delicate state. Our borders are raided daily and Caprum only watches on. They claim a lack of power, but they have more than enough to defend the city and our precious monarch. If war with any of the other nations broke out, Caprum would close its gates and leave the rest of us to die.”

Caprum, the trade capital of Ignis. The capital of the entire kingdom. Athera had been as a child once. Its great gates put Skystead to shame and the sheer size of it took up nearly a quarter of their southern border.

“So all of this for some imaginary war?” Tarquin demanded.

“Not just war, although I urge you to think of it as inevitable,” Alaric paused and looked to Miriam for help.

“When was the last time you saw our king?” Miriam asked.

Athera blinked. “He doesn’t leave Caprum…”

“Exactly,” Miriam said through narrowed eyes. “Even with the destruction of some border settlements, nothing is done. It isn’t working.”

Athera had gone very still. “You want to overthrow the king?” she managed. What would that mean for Ignis? What would that mean for her?

“Eventually,” Alaric said, as though they were merely discussing the weather. “This city must come first. Caprum could be a naval power, but Skystead is directly in the middle of the providence--it is far more suited to be our capital city.”

“You’re…you’re not joking,” Tarquin said softly.

“No,” Alaric shook his head gravely. “It is time to usher in a new age.” He stood, clasping his hands behind his back as he walked over to the small window. “You can join me. We would be changing our country for the better.”

“We…I…I can’t do that.” It felt as though Athera were trying to find the words through thick fog. “I’m just trying to get my brother back.”

“And that,” Tarquin gestured wildly at the catalyst. “No one should have that thing. Catherine was--”

“Catherine never understood just what a marvel she held.” Alaric’s lip curled as he said it. “She could have fixed everything years ago, but she didn’t! Now it’s our turn.” He drew in a deep breath and smoothed his hair.

“I take it neither of you are willing to help us then?” Miriam spoke up. She was still leaning again/st the wall beside the window, completely unfazed by Alaric’s outburst.

Tarquin glanced at Athera, his eyes pleading. She felt just as lost as he looked.

“We can’t help you,” she said. To her dismay, her voice trembled slightly.

“I see,” Alaric sighed. “Your brother was much the same way. How disappointing. He stepped over to the doorway, Miriam close on his heels. “I hope you understand that I can’t let you leave.”

It was as though she had been drenched with a torrent of icy water.

“Alaric,” she croaked out.

“We’ll find you more comfortable quarters soon, but for now, I’m afraid you’ll have to make do.” He pushed the door--the metal door-- open and began to stride out.

“No!” Tarquin cried out. He launched himself at the alchemist, but before he could get within two paces of the man a bright flash of blue lit up the room, momentarily blinding everything.