A thought struck me. “Oh!”
Zadornov smiled, coldly. “What did he take?”
“Master Travis’s notebook,” I said. “The one with the recipe for the experimental potion - and all of his other ideas besides. Reginald knew it existed.”
“He wouldn’t have started the fire unless he thought he already had what he needed,” Zadornov said. “They couldn’t have continued to search the shop while it was burning down around their ears. That makes sense, I suppose.”
I nodded. Reginald had taken a terrible risk. He wouldn’t have exposed himself so badly if he hadn’t been certain of success. There was certainly nothing else in the shop worth challenging a magician in his place of power. I didn’t think Reginald would have any trouble finding the ingredients he needed to brew the potion. He wouldn’t need to steal them from us.
And he must have set the fire himself , I thought. Master Travis had put everything that might explode if someone looked at them funny in the ironhold. He wanted to make sure that all the evidence was destroyed .
I wished, once again, that we’d never heard of Reginald, that he’d never come into our shop and turned our lives upside down. Master Travis was dead and I was wanted by the City Guard. Every man’s hand would be against me. Better to be a poor shopgirl than live a life on the run. I wondered, morbidly, just what Zadornov intended to do with me. I was useless to him now. If he had tame brewers on his staff, what did he want with me?
“Master Travis didn’t deserve to die,” I said, as I tried desperately to think of a plan. But nothing came to mind. Zadornov was heavily protected. My tiny handful of spells wouldn’t do more than annoy him. And he could kill me with a blow. “What did we do to deserve this?”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Zadornov said. “There are worse places to be.”
I knew he was right. But I didn’t believe it. Not really.
Zadornov smiled. “Do you know what Master Travis wrote in his will?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t even known he had a will. I didn’t think he’d owned much in the way of personal property. He didn’t even own the shop. His collection of potions tools would have been buried beside him, if he’d died in his sleep. Now, they were little more than pieces of scorched and twisted metal lying in the ashes, if the City Guard or the Kingsmen hadn’t already taken them away. It wasn’t as if Master Travis had owned a dozen shops spread out over the city.
“It’s on file at the Records Office,” Zadornov said. His smile grew wider. “They’re supposed to be sealed, but ... well, it’s amazing what people will do if you wave money under their nose. I had a look at it as soon as I heard the news. Do you know what it said?”
My temper frayed. “No,” I said. Everything Master Travis had owned was gone. “Does it even matter now?”
“Yes,” Zadornov said. “He formally acknowledged you as his daughter.”
I stared. “... What?”
“Technically, it’s a retroactive adoption,” Zadornov said. “You stand to inherit everything Master Travis owned, provided you take his name. He apparently had a small bank account in North Shallot. There might not be very much there, of course, but it’s yours.”
He smiled, as if he’d thought of a joke. “I’m afraid he didn’t leave you a key to a safe in one of the banks ...”
I barely heard him. “He named me his daughter ?”
“More or less,” Zadornov said. “A retroactive adoption is always complicated, legally speaking, but as Master Travis had no biological heirs I dare say there won’t be any real problems taking his name.”
“No,” I said. “The real problem would be claiming the inheritance without being arrested.”
“No,” Zadornov said. “The real problem is that you also inherited his debts.”
His voice was suddenly very cold. “Master Travis owed me over five hundred golds,” he said. “And you , my dear, now owe them too.”
“Impossible,” I said, before I could stop myself. I could work every day for the rest of my life and not make five hundred golds. “What ... what did he actually offer you?”
“A handful of potions that need a master’s touch to brew,” Zadornov said. “I don’t think that you , as talented as you are, could brew them for me. I’m afraid you’re stuck with the debt.”
“I didn’t sign any contract to pay anything,” I protested. “I didn’t even know the debt existed.”
“It does,” Zadornov said. “Or did you think I gave him the ingredients for free?”
No , I thought. I needed time to think. Master Travis had adopted me ...? I hadn’t even known I was mentioned in his will! He’d meant well, I was sure. It would have been easier for me to take whatever he left me if, legally speaking, I was his daughter. And I had no qualms about taking his name. I was only a Callahan through my stepfather’s legal obligations. I didn't think you gave him the ingredients for free.
“I didn’t know,” I said.
Zadornov gave me a sharp look. “You worked in an apothecary,” he said. “Didn’t you know the value of what you were buying?”
“What Master Travis was buying,” I said. “What happens if I refuse to accept his bequest?”
He gave me a hard look. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “As far as I am concerned, you are liable for the debt. You will repay it.”
I tried hard not to giggle as the full implications struck me. “And how do you think I could even begin to repay the debt? I can’t even go see what’s in his bank account without being arrested.”
Zadornov studied me for a long moment. “That, my dear, is your problem. You can repay the money or you can go straight into the brothels. After, of course, you’ve been fed a little something to make you compliant. You can repay your debt lying on your back.”
My stomach heaved. I had to fight to keep from throwing up. The brothels ... I knew, all too well, what would happen if he thrust me into the brothels. And if he drugged me first ... there would be no hope of escape. They’d use me until I was worn out, then kick me onto the streets to die. I looked around, desperately. There had to be a way out. There had to be.
“There’s no way out,” Zadornov said, as if he’d read my thoughts. “Make your choice.”
I wanted to run. But he was right. There was nowhere to go. Even if I managed to reach the door, there were goons on every level. I was a prisoner, as surely as if I’d been tied to the chair. There was no way out.
But he wouldn’t have spent so much effort on getting me here if he knew I couldn’t pay , I thought. It was hard, but I forced myself calm down and think . Zadornov knew the brothels better than I. He had to know that there was no way I’d earn five hundred golds before I was discarded. The debt was impossible to repay. He might get some satisfaction from putting me in the brothels - all of a sudden, the stories about Zadornov seemed very believable - but it would be pointless. He wants something else .
I looked up, meeting his eyes. “What do you want?”
Zadornov smiled, as if I’d passed a test. “I want you to recover that notebook.”
Chapter Thirteen
I felt my mouth fall open.
“You want me to recover the notebook?”
“Precisely,” Zadornov said. “I dare say the notebook is worth five hundred golds to the right man. And you are the only person who will recognise it on sight.”
“The only person who will work for you,” I said, absently. I was still reeling. The notebook itself wasn’t worth more than a couple of silvers, but the recipe - whatever it was - might be worth its weight in gold. Something dark, but not technically forbidden ... Zadornov would have a use for it, perhaps. “What is the recipe? What does it do?”
Zadornov smiled. “I intend to find out, when you recover the notebook.”
I looked down at my hands. “Don’t you have an idea? What did your brewers say?”
“They gave me a list of possible suggestions, but none of them involved all of the ingredients,” Zadornov said. “
Some of their suggestions were dark, some were illegal ... it would be very interesting to know precisely what Reginald intends to brew. It might give us something we could hold over him.”
Blackmail him, you mean , I thought. I couldn’t help a flicker of vindictive glee. You’re going to make Reginald pay for the lost ingredients.
I shivered. I’d heard stories of men and women who’d been bled dry by blackmailers. I had no doubt that Zadornov would make Reginald’s life a living hell if Zadornov knew something Reginald could not afford to have revealed. But what was it? The aristocracy were a funny bunch. They just didn’t think like common men and women. A serious offence might pass unnoticed, while something trivial might mean social death. Reginald could kill an old man and burn down a shop and no one would care, but the ancients help him if he used the wrong fork at the dinner table.
“If you succeed, you can come and work for me,” Zadornov said. “I’ll see to it that you get a proper education. You’ll be my personal brewer, once you complete your apprenticeship.”
I shook my head. “No one will take me.”
Zadornov smirked. “You’ll be amazed what people will do for money,” he said. “I know a handful of people who will take whoever I tell them to take, if I pay them. You’ll be in good hands.”
If you don’t kill me first , I thought. I wasn’t that important, particularly if he was telling the truth. There was no point in paying for me to undergo four years of study if he had people who could brew for him now. If Reginald doesn’t kill me, you might .
I felt the trap slowly closing around me. There was no way I could leave the city. The City Guard was checking everyone who went in or out of Water Shallot. Even if I managed to slip past them, or waited until they decided I’d vanished and gave up, I’d be going into the unknown without a single qualification to my name. I might be able to find a farming community that needed a brewer that wouldn’t ask too many questions, but I’d be lost without access to potion supplies. And there was no way I could hide in Water Shallot either. Zadornov had eyes and ears everywhere. If the City Guard didn’t get me, Zadornov would.
And he won’t be blamed if I get caught trying to recover the notebook , I thought. There would be nothing linking me to him, nothing that might get Zadornov in trouble. Anyone who catches me will kill me first and not bother to ask questions later.
I shuddered. Reginald would definitely kill me. I didn’t even know where to look for him. It wouldn’t be hard to find Bolingbroke Hall, but what then? How would I be able to get inside and search the building from top to bottom? I’d be caught and ... my thoughts ran in circles. I’d be caught and killed and Reginald would get away with whatever he was doing. I wanted him to hurt, I wanted him to burn , but how could I exact revenge? He was too powerful for me to touch.
Zadornov cleared his throat. “Do we have a deal?”
I took a long breath. “I don’t even know where to find him. And what do I do when I do find him?”
He shrugged, dismissively. “That’s your problem,” he said. “But you won’t have any difficulty finding his family’s mansion.”
I glared at my half-eaten dinner. Reginald would recognise me, damn the man. The moment he saw me, he’d know me. And he wasn’t the only problem. My face alone would mark me out the moment I crossed the bridge into North Shallot. The only half-castes who had a right to be there were the Griffins and anyone who lived in North Shallot would know the entire family by sight. I couldn’t pose as a minor member of that house without getting caught and thrown into jail. Not all of them were half-castes.
“I should add that I know where your family lives,” Zadornov added, as he poured himself a glass of red wine. He didn’t offer me any, for which I was grateful. “I would have no trouble finding them, if you decide to vanish. Your sisters will take your place if I can’t find you.”
“Stepsisters,” I said, absently. Let him think they weren’t my blood relations. I wouldn’t have shed a tear for my stepfather, if Zadornov had him skinned alive, but my half-sisters were innocents. “They don’t deserve to suffer ...”
“And I don’t deserve to lose a pack of very expensive ingredients,” Zadornov said. “I will suffer because I will have to make up the shortfall, somehow. My suppliers will not be happy if I can’t pay them.”
Maybe they’ll skin you alive , I thought. It was hard to imagine someone higher up the criminal chain than Zadornov, but I supposed the iron rules of economics held sway over criminal activities as well as everything else. Debts always caught up, eventually. Zadornov was a wealthy man, but losing five hundred golds had to hurt. I wonder if I can delay things long enough for them to catch up with you .
“I understand,” I said. The nasty part of my mind was tempted to make exaggerated professions of love for my stepfather, but I doubted Zadornov would believe me. “I will do my best.”
“That’s all I ask,” Zadornov said. He sat back and gave me a genial smile. “Do your very best.”
Or don’t come back at all , I finished. I wondered, morbidly, if Zadornov would know if Reginald killed me. Will you kill my half-sisters because you think I fled?
I pushed the thought out of my mind. “I don’t know if the recipe will be worth anything,” I said, instead. “What do you think it is?”
Zadornov held up his glass and stared at the red wine inside. “I don’t know,” he said, after a long chilling moment. “But there are ... rumours , spoken in whispers, of a potion that is supposed to enhance a person’s magic. Without, apparently, unpleasant side effects. If someone happened to be the sole owner of the recipe, the sole provider of the brew to whoever was willing to meet his price, he could become very powerful indeed.”
I felt cold. Zadornov was right. I knew the dangers of becoming dependent on potions and I would still be tempted by an enhancement potion. If my magic had been stronger, I might have won a scholarship to Jude’s instead of going into service. There was no shortage of frauds selling fake enhancement potions - the markets were full of coloured liquid passed off as potions - but none of them actually worked. The only way to strengthen one’s magic was to practice, ideally from childhood. A working enhancement potion would turn the world upside down.
And if that is what Reginald was trying to brew, I asked myself, do I want to hand it over to anyone?
“Rumours,” I repeated. There were always rumours. I’d heard more tall tales than I’d had hot dinners. “Is there any truth to them?”
“It’s hard to say,” Zadornov admitted. “But I’ve heard it from a number of different sources.”
I frowned. That proved nothing. One person could start a rumour and, by the time I heard it, the rumour would look to be coming from a number of different people. I didn’t have the time to follow a rumour back to its original source. But Zadornov presumably could and did.
“There are other possibilities,” Zadornov added. “There’s supposed to be a potion that can help someone evade a sworn oath and another that allows the drinker to bury his true personality under a mask ... maybe even pretend to be someone else so completely that everyone will be fooled. Reginald might want one of them, Rebecca, or he might have something completely different in mind.”
“You don’t know,” I said.
“No,” Zadornov agreed. “I don’t. But Reginald is clearly up to something shifty.”
He smiled. “And don’t you want to see him suffer for once?”
“Yes,” I said. “I do.”
“Very good,” Zadornov said. “You’ll sleep in your room tonight - I suggest you don’t go wandering, unless you want a beating - and tomorrow you can start your” - he smirked - “mission. I’ll expect to hear from you in two weeks. Should I not ... well, your sisters will pay the price for your misdeeds.”
The Alchemist's Apprentice Page 13