Dartilac rubbed his chin while he studied Cedric's unblinking face. After a moment he grunted and snapped his fingers overhead. The servant reappeared and dipped his head in a small bow. 'My seal on a writ to the royal factory of alchemy,' Dartilac said, 'to be drawn immediately but to a maximum of three brandels and no more.'
The servant frowned questioningly but Dartilac waved him away. 'And now what of Cartilon?' he said.
'The army returns from the south,' Cedric said. 'What will be Vendora's first concern, to pay them their due or to see that they are properly led?'
'Leadership, of course,' Dartilac said. 'It is true that her vassals have already provided their yearly aid to the crown to which they are shown and further provision must come from her own purse. But with a strong man at the head, they will rally to her needs and point to the west; their pay can come later.'
'And between the lords who aid with ready coin and those who assist with sword, for whom would she show more favor?'
'But both are needed as she knows full well,' Dartilac said. 'Leadership may be her first concern but she would not turn her thoughts from those who support the crown in so generous a manner.'
'In a situation such as this,' Cedric repeated, 'who would she favor?'
'Arms,' Dartilac growled. 'Under the present conditions she would tend to arms.' His frown deepened and he stopped in thought.
'But surely Cartilon would not shift into Feston's camp without much reflection and consultation,' he said at last. 'He has been steadfast in our course to resist the influence of the rough outlanders. Old Festil may have been a favorite of Vendora's father, but Cartilon sees as well as any that Feston dangles on a string. Why even now my staunch friend labors to influence lady Aeriel to add her voice to ours. And he is here tonight somewhere across the yard, partaking of my hospitality as do others of the same persuasion.'
'Thought and consideration,' Cedric said. 'I would judge that all of the intimates of the court spend a good part of their time in such profitable fashion. To be a member of a faction swinging into ascendency is a temptation. And even if one were himself steadfast, it would behoove him to reassess critically the loyalties of every man that he thought stood behind him.'
'But Cartilon,' Dartilac said.
'I instructed his son this very day,' Cedric said.
Dartilac grabbed his chin and gazed past Alodar's shoulder. 'It is a matter to look into,' the lord muttered behind his hand.
Cedric stood silent, and Alodar saw the pensiveness grow on Dartilac's face. While he pondered, the servant returned and thrust a folded parchment in Cedric's direction. The warmaster nodded and motioned Alodar to accept it.
'Value given and just value received,' Cedric said. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started for the exit.
'You train many of the scions, did you say?' Dartilac shouted after him. 'Perhaps there is more in your future than a few drams of salamander.'
Cedric continued to the gate and nodded once over his shoulder. He ducked through the opening and Alodar followed. In the street, the warrior walked in silence, his lips pulled into a grim line.
'I see that your way is far more effective than my pounding,' Alodar said. 'It is fortunate that you learned something of Cartilon's leanings in time to be of such advantage.'
'Think over carefully what I said,' Cedric replied. 'Cartilon's son said no more than that Dartilac was having yet another festivity.' He stopped and grabbed Alodar by the shoulders. 'I learned the rules but did not choose to play,' he rasped. 'And I do not care to begin even now. Finish this foolishness with Saxton and be done with alchemy. I expect you back in my sparring yard on the morrow.'
Alodar started to speak, but stopped when he saw the bottom edge of the moon's disk shorn away by the line of Dartilac's roof. He tore free of Cedric's grasp and spun around to look to the east, squinting Into the lights of the city and trying to detect the glow that preceded dawn.
'I shall repay you with honor, warmaster,' he said at last. 'But for now, my quest comes before all else.' He grabbed the writ firmly and plunged down the road. Sprinting around a corner, he raced back to Honeysuckle Street.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Moltenrock Treasure
ALODAR panted up to Saxton's storefront too out of breath to shout his return. He entered and swung around the counter and into the workroom. As he dashed through the doorway, he stubbed his toe on a plank jutting in the way and his eyes widened in surprise. The shelves and cabinets lay tumbled to the floor in a vast clutter. Alodar stepped cautiously through the rubble, knee high in splintered wood and broken glass. The air stank of a mixture of odors from ruptured containers and he could not see a familiar sight in the confusion.
He walked slowly forward, scanning the floor, each step accompanied by the pop and crack of additional small destruction. The large cabinet from the south wall blocked his path. As he surveyed a way around, he saw a single pudgy hand thrust from underneath its heavy oaken boards.
Alodar quickly stooped and heaved the box off the fallen alchemist, who lay face down in the tangle on the floor.
'Saxton,' he shouted as he rolled the brown-robed figure over. 'What happened? What happened here? Are you whole or hurt?'
Saxton stirred slightly and opened his eyes to the noise. He frowned and focused with difficulty, small trickles of blood oozing from his mouth and the many small cuts on his face.
'Alodar,' he stumbled out softly. 'Alodar, by the laws, it worked. It worked not once but twice. As I said, the random factors aligned and both of the flasks produced safe ointment. The chance of an alchemist's lifetime and I had it succeed twice.'
'But what happened here, Saxton?' Alodar persisted.
'Rendrac,' Saxton said, and then he began to cough uncontrollably, throwing up great quantities of clotted blood. Alodar looked quickly about and spied a pottery jug still unbroken on a high shelf. He fetched it and, cradling the alchemist's head, gave him a small drink of water.
'Yes, Alodar,' Saxton continued after a moment. 'The luck of a lifetime is often balanced in this perverse world. The factors aligned, but Rendrac could not give us the slightest chance of success thereafter. While you journeyed to Cedric's, he returned here just as the contents of the second flask transmuted into a form safe to the touch. I thrust them into the clutter as be entered, but this body was not meant to withstand the warrior's pain. He pummeled me as well as the shop, and finally I had to tell him where they were.'
'You did as well as you were able, Saxton,' Alodar said as he looked about the room. Anger began to boil. 'I will pursue and give Rendrac his due. We shall recover the ointment yet and your treasure as well.'
'It is too late for that, my lad,' Saxton said, beginning to breathe with difficulty. 'I have studied the inner organs of animals enough to guess what has happened to me. I am not to partake of any of the jewels of the mountains.'
He stopped, and a deep sigh rattled through his lungs. 'But then neither will Basil have his way,' he continued. 'Two successes with a caloric shield! It is enough for any alchemist.'
'Sweetbalm, or perhaps thaumaturgy,' Alodar said. 'We have quested, Saxton, you and I. Do not falter when the goal is in sight.'
'All the balms were destroyed in the mess.' Saxton waved one arm in a feeble arc over his head. 'Think no more of me. Flee instead while you can. Basil will receive enough from Rendrac's trip into the heart of the mountains to care little for the service of a novice.'
'Rendrac braves the heat?' Alodar asked.
'Yes, he anointed himself with the full contents of one flask as I looked on helplessly,' Saxton replied. 'When he was done, he resembled less a man than a silver demon, the coating did shine so. And the second batch he crushed underfoot and rubbed its precious salve into the muck he already had made. The other two flasks on the
