stopped when she felt the gentle pressure and smiled, watching him intently.
'You indeed behave most unlike a lady-in-waiting,' he said huskily after a long pause. He drew another deep breath and the emotions churned within him like the hot acid in the thaumaturge's cauldron. The exhilaration of freedom, Vendora's beauty, the grim determination of his resolve, the anger of yet another injustice, and now the warm presence of Aeriel in his arms, all tumbled in confusion, and he could not sort them out.
'And you are most unlike the tradition-bound noble or the meekly accepting craftsman, Alodar,' she said. 'You have dared to seek as did no other and because of it you have saved us all.'
He smiled and pulled her towards him, and she again reached her arms to ring his neck.
Yes, he had saved the queen, his thoughts raced. Had not Feston been along for the final dash, then all would have followed. Title restored, respect of the peerage and hero of the realm.
Suddenly he stopped his gentle tugging and frowned as the realization of what he was doing hit him. The queen and hero of the realm?or Aeriel and whatever that future might bring? She has judged him by what he had done, rather than by his station. He could treat her in return with no less fairness.
But would not the surprising passion that boiled for the moment cool as suddenly? He was driven to the queen by what had smouldered for years. How could a chance encounter stand against it?
He looked at Aeriel, trying to clear his confusion, and then lowered his head.
'What is it, Alodar?' Aeriel laughed, continuing to come forward.
'I am resolved, my lady,' he said thickly after a moment. 'I strive for no less than does lord Feston.'
Aeriel's lips curved in the beginning of another smile, but then she looked deeply into Alodar's eyes as he raised his gaze to meet hers. For several minutes they did not speak. Finally she reached and pulled his arm from around her.
'I see,' she said crisply. 'Forgive me for thinking your aspirations to be so low.'
'My lady,' Alodar replied, 'forgive me that your presence confuses me greatly. But I will not have peace until my birthright is restored. And that I see accomplished only if I am hero of the realm. For that end did I labor and almost succeed. And I cannot with honor accept your favor, so long as that is my quest.'
Aeriel took one step back and studied Alodar at arm's length. 'Had I not seen what you have done,' she said, 'I would not credit the chance of such ambition.' She sighed and looked in the direction in which Vendora had disappeared. 'But if that is your goal, then may the random factors align in your favor.' With a whirl she suddenly turned and raced down the hillside without looking back.
Alodar stood dumbfounded, watching her go. It all had happened so quickly. He had held excitement in his arms and then deliberately pushed it away. But with each passing second the lure of Aeriel's image lessened and the anger, temporarily diverted, gathered strength.
Total success?and now, nothing! His deeds completely discounted in favor of a strong arm and flashing sword. Great spells worthy of a master judged of lesser worth than the formulas of alchemy. Despite what he had done, the warrior still stood first in the minds of men; and apparently no thaumaturge could displace him.
Alodar watched Aeriel fade from view like the others. When she was gone, he stood motionless, continuing to look down the empty hillside. After several minutes, Periac approached Alodar and threw his arm about him.
'Come, my journeyman,' he said. 'Never mind the twisted thoughts of the nobility. You have done credit to your craft tonight, and we have been amply rewarded. We can call ourselves thaumaturges to the queen; Vendora herself has given us leave. No more mending pots or keeping the frost from winter fruit for a single night's meal in the backward outlands. Let us also travel to Ambrosia and ply out craft where the coin is gold, not copper.'
Alodar blinked as he remembered his master's presence, but then shook him off and looked down at his feet. Not by thaumaturgy could he accomplish his quest! With his face pulled into a tight grimace, he kicked in frustration at the grimoire's outer wrappings, lying where Feston had tossed them. They leaped high into the air; catching a breeze, they began to float gently down to earth some ten feet away. Alodar absently watched them settle while he tried to calm his thoughts, and then suddenly focused his attention. A sparkle in the moonlight caught his eye.
He ran to the parchment scraps as they touched the ground and hastily scavenged them. 'Look here, master Periac,' he exclaimed. 'More deception still. The grimoire alone does not contain all of the formulas we have found tonight. Another is scrawled on the inside of the coverings. See it glow in the feeble light.'
'Waste not your thoughts on such distractions,' Periac said with a wave of one hand while he began stroking his goatee with the other. 'Find yourself a spot of comfort and I will give you some instruction. We will pass the time constructively until dawn to see if there are any survivors and Morwin among them. And then to Ambrosia to better our fortune.'
Alodar looked down at the scraps in his hand and clinched his teeth. It was only one formula against a whole book's worth, but he had started with less two months ago. His pulse calmed as he settled his mind to it.
'No, master,' he said firmly. 'I have had a brief taste of my destiny. I cannot rest until I savor it full swallow. If it is with sword and formula that one wins the fair lady, then on that road I will travel.'
With a flourish, be loosened the tie at his neck and dropped his cape to his feet 'I am a thaumaturge no more.'
Periac's mouth opened in disbelief, but Alodar stood before him in silence, jaws set and fists clenched until the knuckles showed white.
'To cast aside the time you have spent with me is folly,' Periac said at last. 'And to dabble with the likes of alchemy is greater folly still. Come, study with me so that you learn enough of one art to become a master.'
'My life now has purpose,' Alodar replied with determination, 'as it has never had before. I thank you for the knowledge you have given me and hope my service has been ample payment in return. And I will journey with you to Ambrosia, yes, but then I follow this scrap wherever it leads me.'
Periac looked at Alodar for a long moment, then raised his hands and dropped them to his sides. 'Very well, my insatiable one,' he said. 'Explore what Honeysuckle Street has to offer.'
He paused and then continued with deliberate slowness. 'And when you decide instead to be a true craftsman, seek out my door. For a while it may remain open for you.'
Alodar's eyes narrowed, but he did not speak. With a sigh he settled to the ground to await the dawn.
PART TWO
The Alchemist
CHAPTER FIVE
Honeysuckle Street
A stream of muddy liquid spilled from the lip of the overhead vat and into the first crucible in the row. Alodar stepped back against the rough timber wall to avoid the spatter and forced open his eyes, tearing from the caustic haze. The man in front of him tugged on a chain that looped a ring in the bottom of the oaken container; with a low-pitched squeak, the vat rumbled forward along wooden rails. The workman shuffled alongside and then yanked the chain over his shoulder. The high bucket pivoted on pins near its rim and delivered a dose of its contents to the next crucible in line.
Alodar watched in silence as the workman proceeded down the row, chin on his chest and shoulders slumped, like an old horse pacing the same rut around a grindstone. He squinted past the worker, down the line of crucibles riding above small blue-white flames, and saw that they spanned the breadth of the building, some three hundred feet, wall to wall. To his right, six more rows with overhead tracks ran parallel to the first, each one fitted with hundreds of identical stations, lines of graduated beakers, and funnel-mouthed flasks, all filled with dancing liquids or incandescent powders.
Beyond these, the majority of the area was partitioned by a maze of tiny cubicles barely chest high. In the ones nearest, he could see caped figures hunched over cluttered workbenches of dirty glassware and leather bound books. On a raised platform jutting from the rear wall, he saw piles of dull white stone, applelike fruits, cattails and rushes, and other materials he could not identify. Beside each, a worker pounded and strained the substances into powder, pulp, or liquid, and thrust the products into the tracked vats stationed nearby. The thud of
