Arbiter's Word (Alchemist's Fire Book 1)

by Ogden Fairfax

  Over the course of a half hour, Amber informed me that I was using my Azoth inefficiently, and was surprised that all I was doing was just saying or thinking the name of the thing I wanted unless I needed specific changes made. By noon, I'd begun to conjure, change, and dismiss different states of matter and energy. After a lunch break, she spent the afternoon helping me refine my new skills. Not only did she teach me how to convert energy more efficiently, which led to dimmer and dimmer flashes of light, but she also taught me some mental exercises that wound up speeding up the whole process. Whenever I ran low on Azoth, she'd conjure a bit of gold to get me through.

  “Okay, final assignment.” She said, lounging on a small electric heating pad she had informed me was what she would sleep on. With ease, she tapped the heel of her shoe on the tablet, and a stack of books appeared. My heart sank and I could practically feel my brain starting to ache like it had when I'd struggle to study dense texts back in college. Resigned to a long project, I picked up the first book and looked at it. The front cover was blank, but was filled with diagrams, schematics, and descriptions of pieces of some sort of device. “I want you to go through these books, from front to back, and conjure the parts they describe from the materials they instruct.”

  “What if it's made out of something I haven't transmuted yet?” I asked.

  “I guarantee, you've got everything you need. Chop chop, time's a-wastin' and mama needs a pedicure and a martini.”

  22

  I got to work on the schematics, conjuring piece by piece for Amber to accept or reject. When my energy started to get low, I got distracted by trying to check my phone for any updates on Grace. Amber put a stop to that by taking my phone and telling me she'd let me know if anything came in. Slowly, as she approved each successful crafting, I made my way through the first book. I had a pile of metal parts I didn't recognize, but figured I'd get instructions to assemble it when I was done making the parts.

  I opened the second book and started to try to wrap my head around the first entry. When I figured out what it was, my eyebrows shot up.

  “This next one is a bullet.” I said.

  “Bonus point for figuring out the second book.”

  “Am I making a gun?” I asked.

  “Ding ding ding, we have a winner! Tell him what he's won, George,” Amber rolled over on her electric heat-pad bed.

  “How is this supposed to help me help Grace?” I asked “In fact, you said you'd talk to me about what happened, and we've been here for hours.”

  Amber sighed and sat up, spreading the silk of her robe along the top of her legs. “Fine. Here's what I know. Last night, you were talking with Grace for a long time on the couch 'cuz she's super worried about you. Which is so cute it makes me sick, by the way.” Amber pointed a finger at the back of her throat and made a gagging sound. “Anyway, you wrote something down, a promise. Do you remember?”

  “Yeah. I was trying to make sure I was clear.”

  “Well, you activated your Arbiter thing. Before, when you've done it, it was for agreements and exchanges, like the sneezing and chicken thing, and also today when you promised that if Grace needed you, you'd get there as fast as you could. Being able to make contracts with Azoth like that is rare, but not unheard of, since most bigwigs can do that shit too, and they do it to secure favors or loyalty or resources and shit. What you did last night, though, was different. You wrote and recited a vow, a decree that you would never seek agelessness or a way to extend your life beyond a normal lifespan for a human.”

  “Okay?” I said, not sure if I was following completely.

  “That's completely different from anything like, saying you'll do dishes if I take out the trash. Those are conditional, and limited. You declared a flat ban against agelessness for yourself.”

  “So how did that affect Grace so badly?”

  “Azothic law takes a lot more juice. The original Arbiters were serious badasses, with enough power to make and unmake planets' worth of mass at the very least. When someone swears on one of the old laws, they spend a bit of power to anchor to it, but making a new one cost more energy than you had. You created a statement in flux, a void that needed Azoth to be filled. To meet the requirements, it pulled azoth from you, then the tablet since it was closest, then Grace, since she was closest after that. If Grace's natural Azoth hadn't been enough, she'd have died, but instead she just passed out.”

  “Oh, so it really is my fault.”

  “God dammit, Chance, just shut the fuck up and let me finish! She passed out but would have been fine in a bit. I didn't want to call the 911 but you ordered me to. It turned out to be a good thing you did, too, because that Golem showed up and hurt you and Grace.”

  “So what about what he said? He said he was there to kill me for not fulfilling the coin oath.”

  “Yeah, he was full of shit on multiple levels. I can see you're dumbfounded so let me explain. First, by the old laws, anyone who breaks azothic law gets a mark on their Aura for a first offense. I've used my glasses to look and you have no marks. No violations. Nada. Zilch.”

  “You're sure?”

  “I don't keep the glasses as a fashion statement!” Amber flung her flowy sleeves up as she flailed in frustration. “Next, we already established that your oath counted for the coin's thing since it would have been redundant enough that the coin couldn't fit its oath in. So you didn't set off any alarms. The guy that showed up was sent here just to kill you. I don't know who, or why, or how they know you're here, but they tried to kill you. If that was a real Bailiff Knight, you'd be dead, I'd be dead, Grace would be dead, and everyone in this block might also be dead. Those things only have one play in their book and it rhymes with 'porched mirth.'” Amber looked at me for a moment before clarifying. “Scorched earth, dummy. Destroy anything in the general vicinity just to be thorough.”

  “What am I supposed to do with a gun?” I asked. “I haven't even played a shooter game since high school. I'm more likely to hurt myself than anything I point it at.” I looked at the pile of parts on my coffee table. “Especially if I'm building it myself.”

  “Against a Bailiff? Nothing. A gun's about as useless as having your cock out at the eye doctor's. The gun is for assholes like that golem.”

  “Isn't there something else? Couldn't I just do an Arbiter thing and command it to fudge off?”

  “'Fudge off?' Watch your language, sonny, there's ladies present.” Amber imitated an old man's voice. “And no, unless you want to have what happened to Grace happen to everyone in the city, since you'd be undoing the old law that details what happens when one is broken. And then a bunch of pissed Bailiffs would probably show up anyway to make sure none of your corpse can be recovered.”

  “So there isn't anything?” I said, not sure if I was just low on energy or feeling desperate.

  “I didn't say that. Here.” Amber tapped her heel on the stone again and more books appeared.

  “What's this one, a rocket launcher?” I said, expecting just that.

  “Turn to page two-hundred and eight.” Amber put her wizard hat over her eyes and started to doze again. I sighed and turned to the page she'd named in the first book.

  “Oh, okay. This I think I can work with.”

  “Good boy. Go fetch.” I looked up in time to see Amber roll over and fall asleep. She'd been spending a lot of her energy to conjure things for me, and I had a suspicion that her Azoth was tied to her need for heat. Taking care not to jostle her, I moved her bed over to the spot under my desk I usually pointed my electric space heater. The heater turned on and Amber let out a happy noise that I imagined was like her version of a cat's purr, but sounded more like a cross between a giggle and a sigh coming from her.

  I gathered the bits of metal from my half-finished earlier project and set to work. Piece by piece, I converted the metal into the parts for the new design I was working from. I wound up needing more energy pretty quickly, since each of the pieces of what I was making was pretty heavy.
Not wanting to wake Amber and risk earning her wrath, I tried to think of what in my home I could use to gain lots of mass very quickly. I was taking a quick water break when an idea hit me. I went over to the tablet and transmuted a container that could store forty gallons. When my faucet wouldn't reach the edge of the barrel, I made a hose to connect from the spout to the barrel. I also wound up removing the little filter on the faucet since it seemed to slow down the flow of water.

  I was certain I wasn't the first alchemist to do this, but I needed to make a stockpile of mass to convert into what I needed without making multiple trips and taking hours. The barrel was already half-filled when I realized I'd still be converting maybe a gallon at a time if I didn't want to get black-out drunk off the Azoth. I turned off the faucet, realizing I was back at square one.

  I sat at the tablet and tried to think of what I could do do speed up the conversion of my barrel of water into something more dense. Frustrated, picked up the tablet and carried it over to the giant container that was sure to flood my place if the plastic sprung a leak. Resolved to try anyway, I finished filling the barrel to the brim. Unsure of what else I could do, I got down on the ground, so I wouldn't fall and hurt myself if the massive exchange of energy knocked me out. I put the tablet up against the side of the barrel, knowing just a small bit of the plastic could touch the deepest part of the tablet's impression.

  Earlier, Amber had taught me that some alchemists liked to store massive amounts of dense metals for energy conversion, since they couldn't keep it all as Azoth without hurting themselves. I had done a quick internet search, and the densest substance found in nature was a neutron star. I didn't want to have a tiny explosive celestial body in my home, so I settled on the next best thing.

  I started the mental exercise Amber had taught me, and focused on Osmium, the densest metal found in nature that wasn't going to irradiate my place unless I asked for it. I remember hearing the hiss of boiling water as I frantically tried to imagine converting enough water to make a single one-ounce marble of osmium. I heard a clunk on the inside of the drum, and then felt the rush of energy as the whole massive structure started to glow with Azothic brilliance. I fought to keep hold of my thoughts, imagining the tablet to act like a machine gun to turn just under twenty-two-point-five ounces of water into marbles made out of the same osmium I'd gotten from the tip of the one fancy pen in the coffee cup that started this all off.

  There was another clunk, and another, but I could feel my senses dulling as the power intoxicated my brain. Then the pace picked up and turned into the rattle of more than two hundred osmium marbles popping into the barrel and falling to the bottom to meet their identical counterparts. At some point the reaction ended, and I peered over the edge of the barrel to see my haul. It wasn't as valued as gold by humans, but it was worth every drop of Azoth I could get out of it.

  I summoned a steel knife with a razor-sharp edge to cut most of the top of the barrel off, leaving me with a plastic tray of osmium marbles. I dragged the tray over to my spot at the coffee table, heedless of the little bit of water that had dripped from the hose in my sink to the floor. The hard part was over, and I even had a strategy to make more gold later if I needed it for money. However, finishing this project to help Grace was more important, so I buckled down and got to work.

  23

  Amber hadn't stirred even a little from all the noise I'd made, and so I wasn't surprised when she was still asleep after I had finished well after dark. I was happy the job had been successful, but my joy was short-lived when I managed to get my phone out from under Amber's tiny form and check for any messages. There were none.

  “Amber?” I gently prodded her back with a finger. “I'm finished.”

  “Mhmm,” she mumbled. “was it good for you too?”

  “Amber, I finished the project you gave me.” I said, a bit louder.

  “Huh? Oh. Right. Let me take a look.” The foot-tall sprite in my living room walked out from under my desk and looked at the fully constructed piece in awe. “It's...bigger than I imagined.”

  “I bet you say that to all the guys,” I joked, happy to match her sense of humor for once. Her face turned red, which only magnified the imaginary points I gave myself for my wit.

  Resting on my coffee table was a large suit of armor taken straight out of a comic book. Shining metal plates covered an underlying layer of fabric that I knew had a meshwork of microscopic circuitry, polymer threads, and hyper-strong ceramic rings that made even the gaps between the armor's plates able to stop large bullets, or at least that's what the manual had said.

  “Well, I've gotta say, I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd actually do it.” Amber said, clapping out a tiny one-sprite applause.

  “Thanks, I--”

  “You actually managed to surpass yourself and graduate from world-class moron to intergalactic idiot. This thing is useless.”

  “Wait, seriously? How?”

  “There's no way you can wear that unnoticed, and once you get bogged down by the heavy weight and junk circuitry, you're going to get tazed, captured, interrogated, and then forced to try to make more of this stuff for the military.”

  “You sound awfully certain.” I said, defending my creation.

  “That's because that's what happened to the guy who invented this. He's dead now.”

  “Then why did I spend a day making this thing?” I asked. “It took hours! What if Bee had called about Grace?”

  “I'd have stopped you and we'd have gone to see her. This was about practice, remember? Not actually making something to use. If you want to make something you can use, you should have stuck with the plans for the pistol I gave you.”

  I sank to my knees as all motivation just flushed out of me. I was tired, sore, my head felt like it was on fire, and I'd spent so much of that time just trying to turn water into something I could use. I picked up some of the last few osmium marbles I had in the tray next to my couch. “I guess I have these at least.” I said.

  “Osmium? That's actually pretty smart.” Amber said, leaning over to look at the tray. I knew she was probably trying to ease the sting of knowing I'd wasted my time, but the compliment was actually kind of nice considering its source. “Come on, I'll arrange some grub while you turn that thing back into more of these heavy ball bearings you've got.”

  I stood and reluctantly started taking the suit apart and getting my resource investment back. As I worked, Amber dialed and ordered pizza using my phone. When I was done, I idly started reclaiming the pieces of the pistol I'd been assembling initially. Amber hopped onto my couch with a gymnastic leap and sat next to me. I had just made the last piece when the doorbell rang.

  “That's the pizza, you get it.” Said Amber. I rolled my eyes and stood to get the door. Instead of a pizza delivery driver, Dr. Peters was standing at my door.

  “Chance, it's good to see you. I heard about your friend. May I come in?”

  I didn't answer right away, and she leaned past me to look into my place.

  “Are those gun parts on your table?” she asked.

  “Maybe. Why?”

  “I think we might be able to help each other.”

  “I'm not joining your court.” I said.

  “At least let me in so I can discuss this with you like an adult and not the oversized surly teen you're acting like right now.” She admonished me in a tone that seemed almost like she thought this was humorous, or even fun.

  “My friend is in the hospital, and I really don't want to hear a sales pitch.” I started to shut my door, even though I knew she could probably have the goon I saw looming down the hall just break it down. “Are you going to leave or is your golem going to break down this door too?” I said.

  “A golem broke down your door?” Peters asked. I winced, knowing I shouldn't have said anything.

  “Fine. You can come in, but your gorillas can stay outside. And tell them not to mess with my car like last time.” I said, stepping aside to let Peters enter. She s
trode past, and I had the distinct pleasure of slamming the door in the closest guard's face. He didn't bust through to get to his boss, so I guess she thought she was safe.

  “Quite a place you have here,” Peters commented. “The thrill of potential from such humble beginnings.” She sounded like she was quoting something as she took off her designer coat to reveal a cocktail dress that would have made heads turn at any formal dinner. Her hair was still the paler blonde it was at the pizza place, and she wore jewelry with so much white gold and diamonds that I bet she kept them as a last-minute energy source as well as a fashion statement.

  “Where's your Kobold?” Peters asked.

  “Here, your majesty.” Amber stepped into view from behind my couch.

  “We just ordered pizza.” I said.

  “Oh, I'm not hungry, thank you.” Peters gave a polite smile.

  “Your guards are going to scare off the delivery.” I said.

  “You can order another one.” Peters really didn't seem to care.

  “Melanie, I've had a really crappy past 24 hours, so could you please just get on with it so you can be on your way?” I wasn't trying to be clever with her name, I was just so tired that I couldn't pronounce “Melancholy” correctly.

  “Melanie? I like it. It's so familial. Yes, you can call me Melanie. I'm here to make you a deal, Chance. Not court membership, that's a topic you've made clear you wish to avoid. No, I want to offer you something else.”

  “What's that?”

  “My recipe book.”

  “You want me to make scones?”

  “Kobold?” Peters said, expectantly, looking in Amber's general direction but not actually at her.

  “A recipe book is a gift of knowledge from one alchemist to another. It includes all recipes an alchemist has discovered and gained the ability to transmute with, including supernatural ones.” Amber recited. Often an exchange of recipes is negotiated when forming alliances.”