by M C Dulac
“So he was not murdered by the men who followed me?”
Price straightened his shoulders. In the moonlight, he once more seemed older. Sometimes he was as young as I was, and sometimes he acted even older than Champillon. What caused this strange effect?
Price’s voice was sharp, “What men followed you?”
“There was a man in St-Germain and once, I’m sure there was a boy following me along the Rue de Rivoli. Always when I am on your errands.”
“I do not know these men. Unless -,” he muttered a name, “Have they followed you to this house?”
“No, I am sure of that.”
“Good. Let me know if it happens again.
I could not bear that he would close the door now we had started to speak. The questions flooded to my lips, “Do you live and sleep in the laboratory?”
“Here is everything I need. It is easier to take an entire house even if I do not require it, just as it is easier to wear fine coats and silk, than a workman’s cap,” Price said, “The world is more likely to leave a gentleman in peace.”
“But -” I paused, “Are you not a gentleman?”
“You have many questions, Elise.”
“How could I not, sir? This house is so strange.”
Being so close to him was making my heart weak. His scent was like breathing in a potion.
“Then what do you want to know?” he said kindly.
“There are books in your study -”
“Yes, Elise. I notice you have read them. Did I not say not to trouble yourself beyond your duties?”
My cheeks burned, but when Price spoke again, his voice was gentle, “Read them if you like. It was a woman who taught me these things, many years ago.”
“Monsieur, I am sorry, I will not ask again.”
“It is all right, Elise. I said I wanted a confidant. I will answer your questions. But be careful what you ask me,” his eyes were sad, “Once you have part of the knowledge, it is hard to turn away.”
I paused in the moonlight.
“Until tomorrow,” Price smiled and disappeared into his laboratory.
Chapter Nine
Dawn came but I cannot remember anything of the day that followed. All I wanted was for the sun to set so that I could see Price again.
I watched the sky from the upstairs window. It turned from blue to orange and then violet. The rooftops of Paris were dark silhouettes. The sun blinked between two houses as it slid towards the horizon.
The shadows in the courtyard were purple. Usually, it would be several hours before Price woke. But tonight, I saw the door to the garden house was open. Price was waiting by the fountain. He stared up at the window, as if he knew I was watching.
I ran downstairs and crossed the cobblestones. Price had his hands in his pockets. His humble manner reminded me of the stable boy in Reveille. It was so hard to believe he was such a wealthy man, as old as Champillon.
“Good evening, Elise,” he bowed graciously.
“Good evening, Monsieur.”
“Did you have a good day?”
“I was waiting for dusk,” I admitted.
“Perhaps I was too,” Price smiled. He gestured for me to sit down. I joined him on the stone bench and watched the last rays of the setting sun.
I tried not to look at his handsome face. Being this close to him set my heart racing.
“I thought you might have some more questions,” Price said.
My mind was spinning with all the things I wanted to ask, “How is the machine?” I began.
“I will let it rest tonight. A crack is forming in one of the pipes. I will have to replace it before I test the machine again.”
“About your other experiments...”
Price raised an eyebrow.
“Have I not convinced you that I am but a simple scientist?” he said with a sad smile, as though he knew the answer.
“Are you really practising alchemy?”
“Alchemy is a magical word, Elise.”
“Is alchemy even possible?”
“Some say alchemy is superstitious nonsense. Others say it is the hidden knowledge of the ancients. Do you believe it is possible to create gold, transform substances and defy death?”
“I do not know, Monsieur.”
“And your next question?”
I frowned at Price’s elusiveness, “Are you an alchemist, Monsieur?”
Price turned to look at me. His gaze was mesmerising, “Do you really want to know? Once along the path, it is hard to turn back.”
For some reason, I thought of that afternoon in Reveille when I had got lost seeking the wild rose. I felt again the deep chill that had come over me as I saw tree after tree but no clear path. But I had got home safely. Eventually.
I nodded quickly.
Price looked at the buttery moon that had appeared above Paris, “If the art of alchemy existed, few people could be trusted to know its secrets. In ancient times, these alchemists were a select group, dedicated to the knowledge.”
“Have you known alchemists?” If Price refused to give a direct answer, I would try to find the truth in other ways.
“Indeed I have.”
“How did they become alchemists?”
“In ancient times, alchemists were chosen after a long apprenticeship. Who could be trusted with life and death, that only rightly belongs to God? But unfortunately, even they fell from grace. Some were captured and made to reveal their secrets, but others gave into their weaknesses and misused the knowledge. Although, those alchemists never achieved greatness. The mysteries are only revealed to those with a pure heart.”
The first stars were appearing in the sky. I thought of all the books I had read in Price’s study.
“What is the dragon?”
“The dragon is the symbol of the dark side of alchemy. It is the monster that can appear in any experiment. It is not a real monster necessarily. It can be an explosion or catastrophe. The alchemist has the potential for much good, but also the potential for destruction.”
“What is Anubis’ fire?”
“Do you know who Anubis is?”
“I am not sure exactly.”
“Anubis is the Ancient Egyptian god of death.”
I shivered, “And his fire?”
“It is the fire of destruction.”
Price paused. The purple shadows in the courtyard had turned dark blue. A cat was creeping along the wall. The day was over and the creatures of the night had risen.
“Why did you throw the book on the study floor?”
“I was angry because I cannot believe that is the only answer. The Great Work of alchemy must lead to more than ultimate destruction.”
“What sort of destruction?”
“The potential destruction of our world. The knowledge of alchemy is old. Very old. Is it possible that there were civilisations long before our own, to whom our present condition is primitive? Did those civilisations know many things, far greater than what we know? Our attempts to create steam engines and propulsion are nothing to what they achieved. And yet those civilisations fell. Did they go too far in their pursuit of science? Did the alchemists destroy their own worlds? Did the survivors decide that their knowledge must be hidden? Alchemists take what is good but avoid the dragons and the gods of death that hover at the apex of our knowledge. That is why, only the pure of heart can be trusted with our secrets.”
“You say ‘our secrets’, then, Monsieur, you are an alchemist!”
“In all my years I have never said it aloud. But yes, Elise, I am an alchemist.”
Before I had my suspicions, but now I had Price’s confession. I had a feeling I was indeed entering a strange world.
I went on, “You talk of dragons and destruction, but then you say that what you do is wonderful.”
“That is the paradox of alchemy. Like the moon and the sun, the knowledge is in balance. And for every terrible thing is something wonderful. Much of what the ancient alchemists knew is still
a mystery to us, written in puzzles. The basic recipes of alchemy, those of most use to man, are easy enough to master. But it is the other elixirs and secrets that intrigue me the most. Sometimes in my travels, when I have nothing but my books, I plan my experiments in the future. Often circumstances intervene, and I am forced to flee. But here in Paris, I have had time and peace. And you, Elise. You have got my supplies each day without fail, and always accurately.”
I smiled at his praise.
“I have another question.”
Price looked at me kindly, “I have never had such an inquisitive assistant,” he teased.
My face darkened, as it was a question I did not want to ask, “Is it true that you can make gold?”
“My main source of fame, sadly.”
“Isn’t that wrong?”
“Why? It is real gold. If one understands the earth and its elements, and how the metals form within the earth’s surface, one can replicate the process. The powders speed the process and mercury provides the catalyst.”
“Do you make the coins which you give me each day?”
“You look troubled, Elise.”
“But it can’t be right to make gold.”
“It is not gold that is the evil, but the men who seek it. And with gold, I can finance my real work.”
I bit my tongue. How could I be lectured by a boy who was no older than me? But he was older than me, I had to remind myself.
Price went on, “If one wants to move in human society, money is an unfortunate necessity. And besides, how can I pursue the Great Work if I have no laboratory to work in and no gold to buy equipment?”
I had to agree, so I said nothing.
“It is the unfortunate truth, that of all my skills, making gold is the one that is sought after the most and brings me the greatest trouble,” Price added.
He looked sad. We fell into silence.
“But let us not dwell on such things,” Price said, “Since you seem determined to learn everything, Elise, let me show you my real laboratory. You can finally see the results of all your errands.”
He offered me his hand. The garden house door was ajar and we stepped inside.
“When I was young, a magician came to my village,” Price said, “He had a small stage, concealed by curtains. Behind the curtains he had many cabinets and props and tricks. I often wonder if what I do is much different.”
“When you describe it that way, I am no longer frightened, Monsieur.”
“I have always disliked pomposity. The curtains are also useful to conceal my work, if I am unfortunate enough to receive an unexpected visitor.”
He raised a corner of the curtain and beckoned for me to come forward.
As I stepped beyond the curtain, I felt I had stepped back in time.
Huge trunks lay open in the corner, as though the whole room could be packed up at any moment. Large glass bowls and tubes lay on the long table, alongside pots, bellows and candles. There was a stack of books, even older and more worn than those in the study. Some of these lay on the table, while others were open on shelves and the floor.
There were bottles of herbs, powders and minerals. Brother Thomas could only dream of such a collection. Price had assembled the greatest apothecary in France. As I walked along the room, eying the bubbling bowls, pans and vats, some large, some small, I realised these were all experiments in different stages.
I shall not write down precisely what Price told me that night, for I have already disclosed too much in this tale. I will only say that the things I had observed so far were mere threads in a tapestry. With Price beside me, I began to see the whole of the Great Work.
Sometime past midnight, Price knelt down and pulled up a trapdoor.
“It is rare that I can find a cellar but it is the best place to brew the elixir. Come, I’ll show you.”
I took his hand as we climbed down the ladder into the cellar. The room was small and though I expected it to be damp, the air was surprisingly light and crisp.
The only light came from the moonbeam which fell directly onto an apparatus in the centre of the room and a fire burning beneath a pot.
Price was standing in the corner by a long table. He opened a book and traced his finger along the text. I searched for a candle, but Price kept working, oblivious to the change in light.
“Monsieur, can you see well in the dark?” I asked.
He turned to me and his eyes had the faint blue glow.
“Is it dark? I had not noticed,” he said, as he reached for a candlestick. He took the candle across to the fire and lit the wick. He placed the candle next to the book and resumed reading.
I knelt down and stared into the apparatus. A solitary droplet fell from a tube into a glass vial. The liquid shone in the moonlight and began to turn slowly.
“What is this?”
“Morning dew, infused with the light of the sun and the moon, and some other elements.”
“But that is the recipe for -” I stopped myself, for I did not want to admit I had read all of Price’s books.
“Aqua Regia,” Price completed my sentence, “Also known as the elixir of life.”
“Does it really prolong life?”
“Not just prolong life. It makes you immortal,” Price said, “and I would not wish that upon anyone.”
He walked across to the elixir, peered into the vial and adjusted a mirror. The mirror caught another moonbeam, sending it straight toward the vial. The liquid began to spin.
“The ancients said to harvest the elixir at the end of each season. I thought it superstitious, but it does appear to affect the strength of the potion. The elixir harvested at the end of summer is not as powerful as spring. But it will be good enough to get through winter.”
I was struck again by the blue glow in his eyes. In the dim light, his face was smooth and youthful.
“Why do you avoid daylight?” I asked.
“It is one of the side effects of the elixir of life.”
“Have you drunk the elixir?”
Price was silent for a moment. Then he answered, “Yes.”
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
“How long?”
He must be older than Champillon. Had he drunk the elixir in the time of Napoleon, or in the years of the revolution? Was he born in the time of our King Louis, whom the mob had dragged to the guillotine?
I did not expect Price’s answer.
“A century ago. Or two,” Price said warily, “Or I believe three. It is hard to remember sometimes. I suppose,” he coughed, “I am a little older than I look.”
I took a deep breath. The man, or boy, next to me was not natural.
“My allergy to light did not happen immediately. For a long time I could endure the sun. Then, I had to cover my face in bright light. Now I cannot tolerate more than dusk or dawn. Summer is agony for me, although it was my favourite season when I was -,” he paused as though he were thinking of the right word, “- younger.”
The moonlight had fallen on the floor now. I kept to one side of the room. Price’s eyes and voice had a hypnotic quality, stronger now we were in the cellar.
“Do you sleep during the day?”
“I do not need to sleep as often as I used to. In winter I can go about my business at all hours, particularly in the north, where the sun rarely rises. But in summer, I must stay indoors until the light fades.”
“That is terrible.”
“Not really. The night city can be a beautiful place.”
“Does this happen to everyone who drinks the elixir?”
“Eventually. My mistress also avoided sunlight, as did the man who claimed to be her husband.”
“Your mistress?”
“I told you it was a woman who taught me these secrets long ago.”
“Monsieur, who are you really?”
“Paris thinks I am Albert Price, a gentleman. But did you know that I was once a servant, just like you?”
“I thought so
!”
“See, we have more in common than you think,” Price broke into that beguiling smile, “You are doing very well by the way. Many cannot resist being this close to the elixir. You can resist me, Elise, and that is a great thing.”
I hoped he stayed on the other side of the moonbeam, as I was not sure I could resist him much longer.
“Come upstairs. The elixir is very powerful and even breathing its vapours can be dangerous,” he guided me to the ladder. The touch of his hand sent my heart racing.
Through the skylight, the sky had got a little brighter.
“I hope I have not done the wrong thing by telling you these secrets,” Price smiled, “But I sensed something special about you, Elise. I would like to have a friend. I had a friend once, long ago, but she betrayed me.”
“I would never betray you,” I said quickly.
“I am sure you would not.”
“Who was your friend? Was she your mistress?”
“No. She was much later. And my mistress is another story.”
“You must tell me.”
“Maybe I will. But there have been too many questions and too many stories this evening. The moon is sinking. You must rest, Elise. You belong in the daylight, not here in the darkness like me.”
So ended our conversation that night. I left Price, although my heart was soaring. But another day separated us and I had to wait for the sun to set again.
Chapter Ten
These nights were only leading me into deeper and deeper mystery. Some voice within me knew that no good could come of befriending Price, but the allure of his presence and his secrets was too great to resist.
And so the next night, as soon as the sun set, I waited by the window. The door to the laboratory opened and Price stepped out, more dashing than ever. When he smiled my heart melted and I ran down the steps to meet him.