“You sure you don't want anything to eat?” I asked her, then reconsidered. “Actually, what do Kobolds eat?”
“Kobolds don't eat. We survive off warmth.” she said, languishing and stretching until I heard the heels of her pink stilettos click against the window behind my head. “Back before we were mostly hired by alchemists, Kobolds usually moved into houses with good fireplaces. They'd tidy up a bit, find small tricks to play to pass the time, and take naps in the embers for nourishment.” She punctuated that last bit with a powerful yawn.
“Amber, I have a question.” Grace asked between bites of her burger. “You said that CEO that died was the leader of one of the courts. What happens when the king or queen of a court dies?”
“Two things.” Amber said, rolling onto her stomach, “First, there's usually an investigation, since to get the crown of a humor court you have to be practically immortal, but that doesn't mean always. Blake was sort of the end of a dynasty. For the last fifteen-hundred years or so, Blake's family ran the Phlegmatics like a royal family, passing the title and power down to their descendants. ”
“And the other thing that happens?” I asked around a mouthful of chips.
“Likely a power vaccuum since Blake didn't have any heirs. I hear Seattle is a bloodbath right now.”
“What do other courts do to pass the title along?” Grace asked before sipping her soda.
“Sometimes it's handed down freely, other times its after a murder and a new leader is coronated by the court, sometimes the leader is deposed for violating the old laws.”
“So even though they're called by royal titles, there's usually a sort of vote?” I asked.
“Yes and no. Changes in leadership happen rarely enough that there's not much of an official process, and it depends on the court and where it's at. One time the Choleric court's leader died when he stretched for too much power and blew up mount Vesuvius. The top fifty-ish alchemists got together, had a formal dinner, then organized a highlander-style tournament to the death to decide the new king. On another occasion, the previous Melancholy lord's mortal wife caught a disease he couldn't cure, so he chose to die with her. He tried to give his power and title to his son but there was a series of coup attempts until he handed the title over to someone else. She still has the crown now. Whatever works, goes.” Amber finished.
“Maybe I should start some actual lessons and stuff,” I said. “otherwise I'm going to feel constantly out of the loop.”
“Don't feel bad. Us kobolds kind of have a knack for data. At least the younger ones do. You're fine if you want to focus on the here and now.” Amber's voice was a bit muffled as she had rolled onto her side and was facing the back rest.
“You're right, though, you should start working with Amber tomorrow on learning your craft.” Grace said, “The sooner you learn how, the sooner you can start taking measures to protect yourself.”
“Teaching you would be easier if you picked a court.” Amber added.
“I don't know enough about any of them to know if there's a right fit for me. I also just got out of a job where pretty much everyone outranked and disrespected me, and I kind of got that vibe of self-importance from Dr. Peters.”
“Then that's what you focus on tomorrow.” Grace said with finality. “You're going to learn about the courts and see if any fit. Then we can talk about joining.”
“What are your plans for tomorrow? School?” I asked.
“No, school is out for winter break, but I've gotta teach the children's Aikido class.”
“Huh?” Amber looked confused. “What's that?”
“It's basically babysitting but she's actually encouraged to but the kids in a headlock if they don't listen.” I quipped.
“That's...actually not far off.” Grace conceded. “But we should probably head back soon. On the way back, can you give me a quick summary on what I as a normal person need to know about the world of alchemy, Amber?”
“Sure.” Amber took a deep and theatrical breath before rocketing into a lecture. I tried to listen but could barely keep up. “Alchemy is like magic chemistry. Newbies can mess with matter and basic energies while the really advanced stuff seems more like something you'd call sorcery. Each of the four courts has a different high alchemy they focus on, except for Phlegmatic, which focuses on excelling at the fundamentals. When it comes to transmutation, density is key. The usual baseline for density is seawater. The more difference in density between two things to be transmuted acts like a multiplier. The energy used to change things is called Azoth. Everyone has a natural capacity for Azoth, but only alchemists can use it. Spending too much energy tends to cause discomfort, and gaining too much tends to cause mild side effects. Overloading can have nasty permanent downsides. Still with me?”
“Yep.” said Grace, listening as she drove. Grace hadn't even Annunciation the 'p' in 'yep' before Amber continued.
“As a mortal, you can't mess with Azoth, but with enough practice, Chance could make alchemical stuff that could let you draw on your natural stores. Just like an alchemist, using it kinda wears you out. You regenerate it naturally with food and rest. Since you made an oath, you're allowed to go wherever he is and know whatever he does. Socially, you're considered a minion of his. So am I.”
“Fuck that,” Grace said,
“Amen.” Amber agreed. “But in general, for alchemical society, alchemists matter more than regular people or supernatural stuff since people are plentiful and most supernatural creatures just reincarnate. Even so, Chance is a newbie and courtless which makes him both an opportunity and a threat to any court he interacts with. With no declared loyalty, he won't earn the trust of other alchemists as easily. Especially if he has kids.”
'What happens if he ever has kids?” Grace asked.
“I'm right here.” I grumbled, arms over my chest.
“Alchemical ability is hereditary, but the genetics are complicated if alchemists have kids with non-alchemists. There used to be a taboo about alchemist taking mortal lovers but the super old families that gave a crap about it all inbred themselves into extinction about a thousand years ago. The general rule is that an alchemist and an alchemist make an alchemist most of the time. Pairing with a mortal means the gift skips a generation, and if that one breeds with a mortal, it skips two, the next one skips four, and it keeps doubling the generational divide from there.”
“Could that be why he can do the Arbitration thing?” Grace asked “Did the Arbiters have kids?”
“Long answer or short answer?”
“Long answer.” Grace and I said in unison.
“Who the fuck knows?”
19
We got back to my apartment to find another package at my door. Amber said it was hers and carried it to the kitchen to open it up. I stopped when I noticed that Grace hadn't followed me into my place.
“Something wrong?” I said.
“Can we talk? Privately?” Grace glanced pointedly at Amber.
“Yeah, sure. Amber, mind staying here a bit?” I asked. The busy Kobold made the okay hand signal and kept at her task of opening the package. I shut the door to my place and stood with Grace in the hall.
“You feeling okay?” I asked.
“No. I'm not.” She said. “I'm stressed out about all this.”
“I get that. It's like I'm over here playing Adventures of Rumpelstiltskin and Tinkerbell and you're supposed to live life like is normal.”
“Before this morning, I was all in. You and me, secret magician couple against the world. But now there's courts and rules and death penalties and on top of it all, normal human life sounds all but meaningless to people from her world.” Grace tilted her head toward my door, referring to Amber. She crossed her arms defensively.
“Yeah, that bugs me too.” I said.
“You seem to be taking it well.”
“Because I know they're wrong. Amber makes it sound like there's a bunch of hermits with chemistry sets poo-hooing the human race, and the w
hole secrecy thing locks people out of a system that could honestly do a lot of good for people. That's what I want to do.”
“So what are you going to do when a court offers you a job or starts being more insistent about you joining?”
“I'll say no.”
“So you'd turn down the chance to learn how do alchemy?”
“I'm just a guy. What right do I have to any of that?”
“But Amber said without a court--”
“I'd lose out on the fancy potions and stuff. Yeah. I don't care.”
“So you'd give up the chance to help people?”
“I didn't say that, I said I'm not joining a court. I don't need potions, I have doctors and modern medicine. I don't need magic food, I have a grocery store. I don't need magic keychains or whatever, I have tools and people to work with.”
“What about immortality?”
“I don't want it. I don't want to die, but I think it's better if I do just like everyone else. Especially if it means I don't have to watch everyone I care about die around me forever.”
Grace frowned, and took a couple breaths before looking me in the eye again. “You could be just saying what you think I want to hear.”
“I wouldn't do that to you.” I said. “I know all this is crazy, but you have to know I can't lie to you. We promised each other, remember?”
Grace nodded and gave my hands a squeeze.
“Do you want to come in and relax a bit, or do you need some space?” I asked.
“I'll come in.” She said.
We went back into my apartment and sat on my couch. Grace sat all the way at the other end, though, so I figured she needed some space after all, but didn't want to leave either. Behind us, though the bathroom door, we could hear Amber in my shower humming some sort of song.
“You're going to need a bigger place.” Grace said.
“I hate apartment hunting.” I tried not to whine but knew I came off as a bit childish when I said it.
“Grow up.” She said. Her tone was flat, almost emotionless. I hoped she was just acting drained of energy and not in shock.
“I'm trying.” I said. Grace visibly winced like I'd just thrown something at her.
“I know. I'm sorry.” I looked over when I heard her breath hitch like someone caught between a hiccup and a sneeze. I took a risk and scooted over and put my arms around her shoulders. She turned and started sobbing into my chest. It tore me up inside to see her break down, and I started to cry too. The both of us stayed like that for who knows how long. We bawled out eyes out and only stopped to occasionally grab a tissue from a box we emptied over the course of our crying session.
“Crying is so gross,” I said, wiping my nose.
“Yeah,” Grace said, halfway between laughter and sobs as we both blew our noses. Mine made a trumpeting sound that probably echoed through the halls of the building, and I suddenly felt bad for my neighbors in the event that I ever got a cold.
“Please don't become an immortal douchebag.” Grace whispered as she rested her face on my tear-stained shirt.
Suddenly resolved, I gently moved Grace off my shoulder and reached for her notebook,. I took the pen out of the spiral binding and started to write, carefully considering my phrasing before I was ready. Grace watched patiently until I turned to her, the notepad on my lap.
“Grace,” I said, holding my hands out for hers but not making an attempt at grabbing them. We were both really upset and I knew if I made any sort of unwelcome contact I'd wind up with a broken nose, not just a runny one. Hesitating at first, she put her hands in mine. I swallowed before saying my next words, knowing I couldn't take them back. My voice shook, partially with fear over losing a friend a I loved and cared for, but also with anger at the fact that I knew there were people out there that would doubt my conviction, and tempt me to go back on my intentions. “I swear to you, no matter whether you choose to be part of my life or lead your own, that I will never, ever make myself immortal, or use magic to guarantee myself a life longer than any other normal person.”
With all of Amber's talk about Arbiters and the rules, I thought I was ready for the possibility of the tingling sensation she'd described. But I felt nothing, no screen-wipe of pins and needles, just the same sinking feeling in my stomach that I'd had before I spoke. I felt almost relieved, like maybe she was wrong and my life was one step less crazy than we all thought.
Grace, however, leapt away, taking her hands out of mine like she'd just touched a live wire. She held her elbows in tightly to her sides, her clenched fists balled up under her chin as she seemed to fight between standing up and falling over to have a seizure.
“Grace!” I said, lunging forward and steadying her by the shoulders. “Talk to me, what's going on?” Grace held a scream down in her throat that turned into an agonized squeal through her nose. She leaned against me, every muscle tensed as her whole body seemed to war with itself for control.
As suddenly as they began, the spasms stopped and she collapsed forward into my arms. Panicking, I reached for my phone in my pocket and shouted for Amber. The bathroom door few open and she stood there wrapped in a bath towel.
“What did you just do?” she said, eyes wide like she'd just witnessed an alien abduction or something.
“Call an ambulance.” I snapped, not registering her statement. I gently lowered Grace to the ground, and looked up at Amber when I saw she was still just standing there.
“But--”
“Now!” I shouted the word so loudly that I instantly could feel my throat begin to get sore.
Amber jumped let out a frustrated whine and grabbing my phone. In the background, I heard her pace around my kitchen while she called 911. I gently shook Grace, trying to rouse her from her dazed state. Every second that I didn't hear ambulances in the distance, I felt more helpless, straining my ears for the help I feared might be too late. I could tell she was still breathing, and her heartbeat was all right, but I didn't know what kind of unseen trauma had been caused by whatever happened. My anxiety and self doubt thundered in my ears, blaming me for this. It was the Arbiter thing, I thought. I've killed her with the Arbiter thing. I heard the tiny clock on my desk let out the gentle chime it always made on the hour, and I looked to see that it was midnight.
And then my front door flew open in a shower of splinters. Amber screamed and dove behind my couch out of sight. Standing in the doorway, a lanky man in ragged jeans and combat boots lowered the leg he'd just used to destroy my door. He was at least seven feet tall, and had a slender build, but the muscles on his long, uncovered arms were ropy like an athlete's. The skin of his hairless head, arms and face were covered in thin tattoos woven into a diamond mesh pattern, and the flesh that wasn't inked looked gray like a pale corpse. He had a shine to his skin like a polished stone. His eyes were ablaze with rage, and he stepped into my home, pulling a huge hunting knife from behind his belt. Then he spoke with a voice that sounded to be both on fire and under water.
“Chance Clarke, you have defied the laws of order. You have given secrets to mortals. For this, you shall die, and the lives of any mortal you have told are hereby forfeit.” The giant took a powerful step forward, crossing the distance between my door and the spot Grace and I were in a brief instant. With a sweep of his arm, he tore Grace from my grasp, tossing her unconscious body aside and into my kitchen like a rag doll. I heard the glass window on my oven crack as the back of her head made contact with the full force of the giant's throw. I screamed and punched at his stomach and he didn't seem bothered in the slightest.
I took the pen I'd used to write with earlier and stabbed at his arm as he reached for me with his empty hand, but it was like trying to stab concrete, and I earned a slash on my right arm for my trouble. His giant black-nailed hand closed around my throat, and I felt him lift me into the air, letting my own weight cut off air and circulation in my neck. I kicked, trying to catch him in the ribs or the stomach, but it was like an older sibling holding their kid bro
ther at bay with superior reach. Vaguely, I heard sirens approaching as my world seemed to darken all around me. Flashes of light played at the corners of my vision as my oxygen starved brain tried to make sense of the lack of resources.
It didn't make sense, I thought. Grace and I used the coin, promised to keep our secrets from the world and not each other. Amber had confirmed the oath was there, so how could this be happening? I choked out a gasp of air as I desperately pulled myself up on his wrist. My head felt like it was splitting open from the restrictive force around my neck. He squeezed his hand just a bit tighter before cocking his knife-wielding arm back to plunge it into my chest.
I heard a sound like a balloons popping in quick succession, and I thought it was my eardrums bursting from the vice grip of the giant's grasp. I mentally tried to ready myself for the lance of pain I was sure would happen when he stabbed me, but it never game. Instead, it was like he decided to punch me at the last second, because I felt something like a sledgehammer impact with my sternum. I thought the knife must have been so sharp that the momentum of his fist had cracked my ribcage open. Then I was falling, and then my feet hit the floor before my weakened legs fell out from under me. The last thing I remember sensing was the squelch of a radio before losing consciousness completely.
20
Hours later, I sat in the hospital waiting room, holding my aching head in my hands. It wasn't the big reception waiting room, but one of the smaller side ones usually occupied by worried families and supportive spouses. My neck was already turning a deep shade of purple from the bruising grip, and I bore a softball-sized bruise around my sternum from where the giant had hit me. Cruelly, the events of tonight kept replaying in my head. I could still feel the paper in my hands, feel Grace's heartbeat against my fingertips, felt the spray of splinters from my door, hear the crack of bone on tempered glass.
Arbiter's Word (Alchemist's Fire Book 1) Page 9