I forced myself to think. I wasn’t sure how long I’d spent mourning Master Travis and lost opportunities, but ... the City Guard had been quick . They’d identified me in less than an hour - I supposed that wouldn’t have been difficult - and then started checking all the places I might go. I pulled against his grip, wishing - again - that I knew more defensive spells. If my stepfather intended to betray me ... I wasn’t going to go quietly. A couple of the spells I did know would give him a nasty shock, if I had time to use them.
My stepfather shook me. “What did you do?”
“Master Travis is dead,” I said, numbly. “And I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“They’re saying you killed him,” my stepfather said. “And you stole his money before you fled his shop.”
I winced. “I didn’t kill him,” I said. I had taken the money, but there hadn’t been any point in leaving it there. “He was killed by ...”
I sagged. There was no point in telling my stepfather the truth. He wouldn’t believe me. He never had. He’d thought I was a liar, someone who could do nothing right while his daughters couldn’t put a foot wrong. Master Travis would have believed me, I was sure. But Master Travis was dead.
“Your mother was heartbroken when she heard the news,” my stepfather growled. “She went straight off to her mother while I stayed here. I might have lost my job because of you.”
“Oh,” I said. There was no point in apologising to him. I’d learnt the hard way that apologising only made matters worse. “Why did you stay here?”
“To warn you not to come here again,” my stepfather said. “Your mother is utterly devastated. Your sisters are angry. Do you know what this could have done to them?”
“Nothing,” I said, feeling a sudden surge of anger. I hated him; I’d always hated him. “You declared me an adult, remember? You can’t be blamed for anything I do.”
“They might not be able to find jobs because they’re related to you,” my stepfather snapped, angrily. His grip tightened. My arm was starting to ache. “And if I lose my job ...”
“There’s no shortage of jobs on the docks,” I snapped back. “You can just go down there each morning and get hired.”
“Not if I have a bad reputation,” my stepfather said. “And having a thief for a daughter ...”
“Stepdaughter,” I reminded him. “And you were quick to send me into service so you wouldn’t have to feed me any longer.”
“Master Travis has made you grand,” he said. It wasn’t a compliment. “Think you’re better than us, do you?”
I took a long breath, reminding myself that there was no point in arguing. Not with a man who’d hated my very existence from the very moment he’d laid eyes on me. My stepfather was hardly the first man in Water Shallot to have stepchildren - widows and widowers were expected to marry again as quickly as possible, if they had underage children - but there was no way he could pretend that I was his . My mother hadn’t given me my looks. And legally he’d had to take care of me anyway. I supposed I was lucky he’d sent me into service. He would have hated me all the more if he’d had to pay for me as well as two daughters who were growing into their teenage years.
“No,” I said. “I’m sorry I came. I’m sorry ...”
“Yeah,” he said. “Give me the money.”
I blinked. “What money?”
“The money you took from Master Travis,” my stepfather said, sharply. “The money in your pouch. I heard it clink.”
“That’s my money,” I said. His grip tightened, again. “I earned it ...”
“And you have to repay what I paid for you,” my stepfather said. “Give it to me.”
He raised a fist. I cringed inwardly, remembering the times he’d hit me. It hadn’t been easy to hide the bruises at school. And yet, I was an adult. I wasn’t entirely defenceless ... I shaped a spell in my mind, shocking his hand. He yelped and jumped backwards, letting go of my arm. I gritted my teeth against the backwash - the spell had hurt me more than it had hurt him - as the magic faded away. It was all I could do to keep myself steady.
“I’m not your daughter,” I said. “And I have enough power to kill you if you touch me again.”
His eyes opened wide. I thought I saw fear in his expression. “You ... using magic on your parents is against the law,” he blustered. “I can have you done for it.”
I laughed, harshly. “And tell everyone that you were put down by a little girl? I don’t think so.”
We stared at each other for a long moment. I wasn’t sure if I was bluffing or not. A skilled magician could have a spell ready to go at a moment’s notice, and a ward to deflect a punch, but I couldn’t. It would take several seconds for me to cast a second spell, more than long enough for him to slam his fist into my jaw. I had no illusions about what would happen if he hit me with all his might. I wondered, morbidly, if he’d hand me over to the City Guard - in hopes of collecting the reward - or simply snap my neck and dump my body in the river. No one would ask questions, once my body was found. Reginald would probably make sure of it. The City Guard wouldn’t care.
“Leave my house,” my stepfather said, finally. I heard the humiliation in his voice and winced. My mother and half-sisters were in for a hard time when they came home. “And don’t come back.”
“Give me a cloak and I’ll never trouble your house again,” I said. The cold air was starting to bite. The skies were growing darker. It was starting to look like rain. “And give my mother my love.”
“You always were an ungrateful child,” he growled. “Very well. I’ll fetch you the cloak.”
I felt an odd stab of pain as I followed him into the house, careful to keep a safe distance from him. It hadn’t always been bad. My half-sisters hadn’t been that unfriendly, even though their father had hated me. And mother ... I wanted to speak to my mother, but I knew it was impossible. I hadn’t realised the City Guard would come here so quickly. I’d taken a risk just showing my face. My stepfather would be in deep trouble if the City Guard realised he could have caught me at any moment. I wondered, nastily, if I should make sure they knew.
Only if he betrays you , I thought, as my stepfather tossed an old cloak at me. It was as shabby as I’d expected, the back covered in patches that made it look as if it was on the verge of falling apart, but it would do. It would have to do. If he doesn’t betray you, you shouldn’t betray him .
“Thank you,” I said, because Master Travis would have expected me to thank him. “I won’t darken your door again.”
“You’d better not,” my stepfather rumbled. “And don’t go looking for your mother either.”
“Tell her I was here,” I said. There was no point in visiting my grandmother. The old lady had never been nasty to me, but her disappointment in her daughter had been palpable every time she’d laid eyes on me. “And tell her that I love her ...”
My stepfather snorted. In the distance, I heard the sound of thunder.
“Go,” he ordered.
Wrapping the cloak around me, I hurried out of the house and onto the darkening street.
Chapter Eleven
The rain started seconds later.
I pulled the cloak around me as tightly as possible as water splashed down from high above, leaking through the holes in the cloth and drenching my dress. I gritted my teeth, resisting - as best as I could - the temptation to turn around and demand a better cloak from my stepfather. But I knew I’d pushed him about as far as I could. He wouldn’t give me another cloak, not after I’d singed his pride. He was far more likely to knock me out and call the City Guard.
My legs moved of their own accord as I hurried down the street, away from my former home. A handful of schoolchildren ran past, eager to get their lunches at home before returning to the classroom; I felt a stab of envy for their innocence, mixed with relief that I was no longer a schoolchild myself. I’d learnt more from Master Travis than I’d ever learnt in school. But then, very few children were enthusiastic about sc
hool. I hadn’t realised how important it was to be able to learn to read and write until I’d left school ... and by then, I conceded sourly, it would have been too late. A pair of teenage girls, only a year or two younger than me, walked past me without comment. Their cloaks were so tightly wrapped around their heads that I couldn’t see their faces. They might well have been my half-sisters.
But probably not , I told myself. They normally take their lunch to school .
I pushed the thought aside as I crossed a pair of canals - the barges were still moving, despite the rain - and headed onwards, unsure of where I was going. I had no clear plan and no hope of devising one. I might be able to stow away on a ship, but where would I go? Legally, a stowaway had to be put to work and dropped off at the next port; practically, the ship’s crew might throw me overboard. Or find some thoroughly unpleasant work for me to do, instead ... I shuddered. I’d sooner starve. But what else could I do? I could see if any of the other apothecaries were hiring, but without paperwork it might be impossible to convince them to give me a chance.
My heart sank. And if they believe I killed Master Travis and destroyed his shop, they’ll be unwilling to do anything but hand me over to the Guard .
I tried, desperately, to think of other options. There was nothing to be gained, as far as I could tell, from going to the City Guard or the Kingsmen. Reginald would have made certain of it. They’d lock me up and throw away the key. I might be able to leave the city - there were plenty of ways to cross the walls - but where would I go afterwards? I knew nothing about the countryside. I didn’t even know how to harvest potions ingredients! Master Travis and I had always bought our ingredients from suppliers. We’d never gone looking for them ourselves. And that left ... what? Zadornov? I didn’t want to go to him, cap in hand. I had the feeling that working for him would prove more dangerous to me than anything else.
Perhaps I should marry Clive , I thought. It was a mark of my desperation that it was almost tempting. But he’d never be allowed to keep me .
I stopped, dead, as I realised where my legs had taken me. I was very close to the apothecary, too close for my peace of mind. And yet ... I forced my legs to start moving again, turning the corner as if I was just out for a lunchtime stroll. I had to see what had happened. I cursed under my breath as the rubble came into view. The City Guard was out in force. The entire area was sealed while Guardsmen - and Kingsmen - worked their way through the remains of the apothecary. I wondered, grimly, if they’d recovered Master Travis’s body, if indeed there was anything left of him. I hoped they’d give whatever they found a proper burial. It wasn’t as if I could perform the last rites for him.
The ice in my stomach grew colder as I surveyed the damage. Three or four shops - and the apartments above them - had been destroyed or rendered unstable by the explosion. I felt a pang of guilt as I saw the baker from down the road, staring helplessly at her damaged shop. She’d always been kind to me, although she’d driven a hard bargain whenever I’d gone to purchase Master Travis’s favourite buns. She didn’t deserve to lose everything because of Reginald and his wretched project. But there was nothing I could do about it. I hoped the others - the dressmaker, the candlestick maker - were alive and well, even if they had lost their shops. Reginald had destroyed their lives as surely as he’d destroyed mine.
I wanted to sit down and cry, again. Instead, I forced myself to keep walking, throwing sidelong glances at the rubble as I passed. The Kingsmen were looking for something under the debris, but it didn’t look as if they were having any luck. A handful of labourers were removing chunks of stone, piece by piece; I realised, grimly, that the blast had indeed reached down to the underground tunnels. I wondered, morbidly, just how many people had been caught in the blast. There were rumours of entire cities deep underground, where people lived and worked their entire lives without ever coming into the light. But the Kingsmen didn’t seem too interested in the underground workings.
They’re looking for the ironhold , I guessed. They have to know it was there.
I sighed, inwardly. They were wasting their time. The explosion was proof enough that the ironhold had been breached by the flames. I allowed myself to dream, just for a moment, that a vial of Reginald’s blood had survived - he would have had to answer some hard questions if the Kingsmen found it - but I knew it was unlikely. The blast had been powerful enough to turn everything within the ironhold to dust. There wouldn’t be enough blood left to fill a thimble. I watched a pair of men removing what looked like a twisted and battered cauldron, then shook my head as I walked further down the streets. There was no hope of recovering anything from the remains of my former life. The Kingsmen would take everything they could from the wreckage.
It was foolish to come back , I told myself, grimly. It had been habit, a habit I’d have to break. There’s nothing here for me .
I kept walking, turning onto the main road leading to the bridges. There were fewer carriages on the road than I’d expected, suggesting that there was some kind of hold-up ahead. I guessed the City Guard were already searching carriages that were trying to cross the bridges in and out of Water Shallot, although I had no intention of going to see. It would be foolish to get caught if all I wanted to do was satisfy my curiosity. And yet, where could I go? It wouldn’t be hard to get a room with no questions asked, but I’d run out of money sooner rather than later. I wished I’d had a chance to count the money I’d taken. Would it cover a month in a tiny bedsit, perhaps long enough for the hunt to die down, or would it only last a day or two? And could I find a place to stay where I wouldn’t be robbed?
A carriage rattled past me. I barely had a moment to register that it was opening its doors before a strong arm reached down, caught hold of me and yanked my entire body into the carriage. It was dark inside, so dark I knew it had to be enchanted. I gasped, kicking out automatically as the door slammed closed behind me and the carriage rattled into life. I heard someone grunt in pain as my foot made contact with his knee. Moments later, a hand slammed into the side of my head. I fell backwards, cracking my head against a piece of wood. In my dazed state, it took me a moment to realise I’d hit the carriage wall itself.
“Stay still, girl,” a harsh voice said. “We’re not going to hurt you.”
I reached for my magic, squeezing my eyes tightly closed as I cast the strongest light spell I could. Master Travis had taught me the spell, then showed me how to use it to defend myself. A blinding light in someone’s eyes would distract them long enough for me to escape, he’d said. And anyone who was using a night-vision spell at the time would be blinded for hours . The man let out a curse as the magic flared around my hands. I opened my eyes the second the spell failed, pulling myself away from him. My magic had defeated his enchantment. I could see him. He was a strong man with a shaven head, wearing a longshoreman’s outfit. I would have bet everything I owned that he’d never worked as a longshoreman in his life.
“You ...” He sounded as if I’d hurt him badly. “You little ...”
I glanced around the carriage, trying to figure out how to open the door. But I couldn’t see a handle. A moment later, he grabbed me and threw me down to the hard wooden floor. I tried to summon another spell, but it was too late. My hands were wrenched behind my back and tied so tightly I felt them begin to go numb. He sat back and rested his feet on my back. I twisted, trying to look up at him, but it was futile. I was held firmly in place, helpless once again. I concentrated, trying to shape a spell, but the magic refused to form. He was using magic of his own to keep me from escaping.
“You can lie there until we get home,” he growled. “And don’t even think about complaining.”
I glared up at him, trying not to take pleasure in his red eyes. He was alternatively glaring at me and rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. I hoped his eyes would be sore for a good long time to come. There were potions on Master Travis’s shelves that would make his eyes feel better ... no, there had been potions on the shelves. T
hey were gone now, along with the store itself. And I had just been kidnapped.
It was hard to talk. But I had no choice. “Who are you?”
“None of your business,” the man snarled. He reminded me of my stepfather, only without even the minimal obligations towards an unwanted stepchild. “Keep your mouth shut and you won’t get hurt.”
The Alchemist's Apprentice Page 11