that. Cyrume was on the goddess's business. The Selunites ripped him apart to stop him.' He spat into the dust. 'They didn't have to. They could probably have just taken him to the guard. But they killed him.' He squinted, glaring at Keph through narrowed eyes. 'Never trust a Selunite, Keph.'
Keph nodded slowly.
'What now?' he asked. 'Will you have some kind of memorial?'
Jarull shrugged and said, 'I don't know. Maybe. I haven't been part of the cult that long.' He twisted around and rose to his feet. 'Come with me. I sent you that note because there's someone who wants to meet you.'
'Who?' Keph stood as well.
'Bolan.'
Keph drew a sharp breath and dashed after Jarull. Of the big man's Sharran friends, there was one name Keph hadn't forgotten, even if he hadn't yet seen a face to place with it. Bolan was the closest thing to a high priest that the followers of Shar in Yhaunn had, the leader of their secretive cult.
And Bolan, Keph had quickly gathered, didn't meet with just anybody.
Jarull set a brisk pace through the heat of the afternoon. Though they stuck to the relative cool of the shadows, Keph was sweating heavily before long. Jarull, however, barely seemed to notice the heat at all. Not a drop of sweat stood out on his pale skin. When Keph suggested a break in a nearby cellar tavern, a respite from the heat, the big man barely gave him a glance.
'When Bolan wants to see you,' Jarull said over his shoulder, 'you don't keep him waiting.'
Their destination was halfway across the city, in one of Yhaunn's poorer neighborhoods. Jarull stopped and nodded at a narrow, unassuming house. The building was modest, in slightly better repair than those around it. Keph noticed, however, that the children playing on the street gave it a wide berth, and that a group of old men sitting on a plank bench nearby offered dark looks when they saw him and Jarull pause. Keph resisted the urge conceal his face.
'Do they know about Bolan here?' he whispered to Jarull.
'They don't know what we know.' He went up to the door and opened it without knocking. Keph followed him through.
The air inside the house was blessedly coolbut it also stank. Keph's nose crinkled immediately. The smell was almost like his family's laboratories, but at the same time different. Wizards' laboratories tended to smell dry and faded, like old herbs, or else wet and rancid like rotting meat. Bolan's house had a different scent entirely: dark and heavy, a little bit metallic, a little bit like minerals. Keph could smell the sting of vinegar and the burning stench of sulfur, along with other odors he couldn't quite identify.
'Alchemy…' Keph muttered.
'Yes.'
A man stepped out from a curtained doorway and Keph resisted the urge to stare. Short legs and a bullish neck made the man look as squat as a dwarf. His shoulders were round and thick, his chest and belly fat like a barrel. His appearance might have been comical if not for the porcelain smoothness of his face. He had no wrinkles or stubble, and Keph was reasonably certain the sun hadn't touched his face in months. His head was bald on top, but a long fringe of unnaturally black and glossy hair was gathered in a tight braid that hung down his back. Jarull offered him an obeisance. After a heartbeat, Keph did the same.
Bolan grunted and said, 'He's quick, isn't he?'
Jarull nodded silently. Keph waited as the squat alchemist looked him over then held out his hand.
'Let me see your rapier,' he said.
Keph glanced at Jarull. His friend gave him a pointed glare and jerked his head toward Bolan. Keph drew Quick and handed her to Bolan. In contrast to the eerie perfection of his face, the alchemist's fingers were stained yellow and purple-black. He plucked Quick out of Keph's grasp and held her up, examining not the blade as a swordsman might, but rather the metal itself. After a moment, he grunted, then took the tip of the rapier between rough fingers and flexed the blade. Keph winced.
Bolan's dark eyes shot to him immediately.
'Too concerned with material things,' he said. 'Illusion. The Lady of Loss teaches otherwise.'
He flexed Quick several more times, watching him closely. Keph struggled to keep his expression neutral..
Bolan shrugged and said, 'You'll learn.'
He tossed the rapier back at Keph, who started to reach for it then snatched his hand back out of the way of the tumbling blade. Quick clattered to the floor. He scooped it upand found Bolan nodding.
'Sensible enough to know when you could be hurt.' His eyes glittered and he asked, 'If your rapier had been falling into a pool of acid, would you have tried to catch it?'
He's testing me, Keph realized. For a heartbeat, rage at being manipulated flashed through him. He held it in check, forcing his face and his eyes to remain calm. Bolan's fine eyebrows arched slightly.
'Well?' he asked. 'Would you risk injury to save your sword from destruction?'
If he said yes, it would contradict Bolan's comment that material things weren't important. But no seemed too obvious an answer as well.
'That depends,' Keph said finally, 'on whether I needed it to defend myself.'
Bolan's eyebrows rose higher. Keph waited for an answer. The alchemist, however, didn't give him one. He just turned and stepped back to the curtained doorway.
'Come through,' he said, holding the curtain aside as Keph stepped past him.
The mineral smell was even stronger beyond the doorway, the hot stink of a burning furnace underlying it. On shadowy shelves around the room boxes, bins, and jars peered down. A variety of heavy glassware was meticulously arranged on a long, marble-topped workbench. A low rack held books. Keph couldn't help but think of Roderio's laboratory. He froze, the image of his brother's burned facenow bandaged and healing after the attentions of priestswashing over him.
'Ah,' said Bolan from behind him. 'How insensitive of me. This room must have unpleasant resonances for you.'
Keph turned around. Bolan was watching him. So, from behind the alchemist, was Jarull. His friend must have told Bolan about Roderio's accident.
'No,' Keph said firmly, hardening his heart. 'Nothing unpleasant at all.'
Bolan's flawless face didn't shift, but somehow he managed to convey the impression of a prankster disappointed at the failure of a trick. He gestured with his stained fingers, summoning Keph back.
'Do you know where Wedge Street is?' Bolan asked. When Keph nodded he continued, 'There's an alley off its north side. Wait there at full dark after sunset tomorrow night.' The alchemist swept an arm toward the door to the street. 'You can go now.'
They were back in the bright heat of the afternoon before Keph even had time to blink. Squinting against the sudden glare, he twisted around just in time to see the door slam behind them. He looked up at Jarull. The big man was smiling grimly.
'Good job,' he said. 'It isn't easy to rattle Bolan.'
Keph rubbed his eyes and said, 'Jarull, was that what I think it was?'
Jarull nodded. 'An invitation.'
Down the street, the old men were staring at them again.
Jarull led Keph away from Bolan's house, strolling more casually, as if pleased that his friend had met with the alchemist's approval. Keph took a last look over his shoulder.
'That was… faster than I expected.'
'Bolan isn't a patient man,' Jarull replied.
'That's not what I mean,' Keph said. 'I thought it would take some time before the offer was even extended. You just told me about the cult a few days ago!'
Jarull was silent for several paces, then said, 'Maybe it has something to do with Cyrume's death. Maybe Bolan is recruiting for a war against the Sehinites.'
Keph choked. 'He would do that?'
Jarull shook his head and replied, 'I don't think he would. But I've heard from some of the others that Bolan hasn't been himself lately. He's normally very cautious-he has to be or the Sehinites would have uncovered us months ago.' Jarull shook his head. 'There's a woman,' he said. 'A visitor to the cult. She's only been around a little
