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

by Ogden Fairfax

  “Chance, dear?” Peters said. “Are you all right?” I realized that I had gotten lost in thought and hadn't said anything for a while.

  “Just tired.” I said. “Can we hurry this up?”

  “Of course, of course. You've lived up to your word, and I will live up to mine. Six-hundred pounds comes out to three days of memory for Grace. And of course, I still have to pay you for your work.” Peters held out a hand and the nearest minion jogged over and handed her a smartphone. After a moment of tapping, she set the phone down. “Your kobold should be able to confirm the transfer.”

  I leaned toward Amber and she whispered the ammount into my ear. It was nearly twelve million dollars. Somehow unphased, I looked back at Peters.

  “Well, I guess we're done here.” I said, getting ready to stand.

  “You don't want to stay for lunch?” Peters remained in her seat as Amber and I started to push our chairs in and back under the table.

  “I have to get some sleep and get started on tomorrow's shipment.” I said.

  “But I took the liberty of bringing some special guests, just for you. The leaders of the Choleric and Sanguine Courts will be here any moment.”

  “I'm not interested in watching you play 'Tiny Magic NATO.'” I said.

  “Don't you at least want to watch me administer Grace's treatment?” The only words that might have given me pause were those, and she let them fall from her lips like the unspoken promises her advances had been bombarding me with since I got here.

  “Gustav,” Peters said, turning her triumphant smile toward the foremost of her lackeys, “Why don't you bring in Grace and her Grandmother?”

  31

  As the giant man left to greet a car that had pulled up outside the restaurant, Peters pulled a compact mirror from within her dress. With a flash, she brought the skimp-factor on her dress down from a ten to a more professional three. We only had to wait for a minute at most before Gustav returned from the lobby with Grace hanging on his arm like it was the safety bar on a roller coaster. Mercifully, he wasn't manhandling Bee, and let her walk in front of him with her dazzling gold cane. Grace looked dazed, like she wasn't completely lucid as she walked on two feet. When she saw me, her eyes lit up and once again she went through the process of calling my name. Grace let go of Gustav's arm and ran into me, practically knocking me over. She was dressed in a pair of sweat pants and a toaster pastry t-shirt Bee must have gotten from home.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, hoping for any response other than the one she'd parroted the last time I saw her.

  “I think so. My head hurts, but the doctor says it will be better soon.” Shielding myself from heartbreak with the Azoth I carried, I turned to Bee,

  “Are you Okay, Bee?” I asked.

  “Oh I'm fine, Sugar, thank you so much for doing this.” She gave me a smile I knew I didn't deserve, and I immediately wanted to know what Peters had told Bee to get her to come here willingly.

  “Mrs. Jones, welcome. Thank you for coming. I was just thanking Chance for finding this experimental treatment I called you about. This young man and his assistant spent all night filling out all the paperwork to get Grace into the clinical trial in time for her to get her first dose today.” Peters stood and gave Bee a big and jovial hug.

  “Are you sure it's safe?” Bee said.

  “Mrs. Jones, I skimmed through some of the research myself. While no treatment for such a serious brain injury is guaranteed to work, the risk of side-effects from this trial are not insignificant. Before we continue, I need you to know that.”

  “Well, I'm not sure. I don't know anything about medicine, do you think it's worth it?”

  “I can't say with absolute certainty, but I think the chances of a good outcome are better than none.” Peters slipped into her doctor persona as easily as she might have slipped out of her dress if there had been a strong wind earlier. “Although, technically, since Grace doesn't have a living will, we have to try to get her consent before we continue.”

  Peters and Bee both turned to Grace, who still stood unsteadily in my arms. “I think someone told me I'll get ice cream later,” she said. I only had a minute or so before she started all over again.

  “Grace,” I said, holding her by the shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze to get her attention. “Grace, I need your full attention. Okay?”

  “What's up?” she said, her scripted memory sequence derailed slightly.

  “If you had to choose between living with the memoryspan of a goldfish or risking a dangerous procedure that might kill you to fix it, what would you rather do?” I asked.

  “Umm,” she said, the dazed look in her eyes starting to creep in. I had even less time than I thought. “You're scaring me.”

  Despite the armor my Azoth gave my soul, I felt horrible at seeing her like this. But I had to press her on it. I couldn't do this without her. It was the only way.

  “Just breathe and think, Grace. What would you do?”

  “Do it.” She said. I met her eyes and for a moment I saw the spark of the razor-sharp intelligence I knew and admired her for.

  “Even if you might die, or worse?” I said.

  “Yes.” she said, nodding determinedly. I stood there as long as I could, holding her gaze until her eyes fluttered and she started to go limp in my arms. The potion from earlier was long gone, but I still found the strength to scoop Grace up in my arms and hold her up off the floor.

  “That good enough for your sense of ethics, Dr. Peters?” I said, keeping the bitterness that was building inside me from reaching my voice. “As speedy of a reader she is, I don't think she can make it through the paperwork in time to sign a form.”

  “That'll do. Bring her here.” Peters said, reaching for a metallic briefcase labeled with a biohazzard sign on the side that one of her minions had brought forth from somewhere. I carried Grac over to the table and set her down on top of it at the head. Amber stood nearby, a hand on my shoulder as I cradled Grace's head in my hands while Peters pulled an impressive-looking syringe gun from the suitcase. Wisps of cold vapor flicked out from within the case as I watched frost form on the gun's surface from the humidity in the room.

  As if loading bullets into a gun, Peters pressed a trio if tiny vials into the handle of the gun. When the third one was in place, there was a pneumatic hiss and a small bulb-like reservoir on top filled with clear liquid that quickly turned a waxy white substance that looked solid in its little container.

  Peters lowered the needle to Grace's arm and pulled the trigger. We all watched and listened as a pneumatic hiss accompanied the slow receding of the white substance in the bulb atop the gun. When it was all gone, Peters withdrew the needle and putting it back into the suitcase and closing it. Grace didn't move, and I couldn't even tell if she was breathing. Amber squeezed my shoulder as she too felt the tension climb. Peters checked Grace's pulse and nodded. “Any second now,” she said.

  Suddenly Grace screamed and sat up, springing to her feet on the table and bringing up her fists like she was ready to fight someone. She looked around, eyes wild, but not seeing any of us.

  “What's going on?” she said, “Chance, is that you?”

  “Yeah, Grace. I'm here.”

  “I can't see anything.” she said. “Why are you on the floor?”

  I looked at Peters, who spoke up. “Grace? This is Dr. Peters. I've given you some medicine to help with an injury you sustained. Your brain is re-connecting the parts that were hurt. Your vision should come back in a moment.”

  Grace stood atop the table and shook for a moment until I was able to take her hand and help her off the table. She sat, blinking rapidly for a moment before she spoke.

  “I remember.” she said. “You and I were talking. Amber was over. I remember noise and then nothing.” The moment she mentioned Amber I knew Grace had gained at least enough memory to bring her up to speed before she got hurt.

  “A man broke into Chance's place, sugar.” Bee said, helpfully. “H
e knocked you on the head and beat Chance up pretty good. Do you remember any of that?”

  “No, I think I was out at that point.” Grace said, blinking a few more times before looking at me. Her eyes met mine in such a way that I knew she could actually see me now. “He hurt you?”

  “I'm fine. Just some bruises.” I said. “Dr. Peters said you'll probably need another dose of the meds you just got, but you should be fine to come home.” I said. If Peters could play the game of “we totally had this conversation” then so could I.

  “Uh, yes, if you want to go home, you can. I'll handle the discharge papers.” She said. Beneath her calm bedside manner I could see she wasn't entirely happy that I'd just made that move.

  “Bee, do you need a ride home?” I asked.

  “No, sugar. I drove myself.”

  “Can I ride with Chance?” Grace asked. “I want to catch up.”

  “Of course,” Bee said, clearly happy to see Grace acting like herself. “I'll meet you there.” Bee headed for the door to get to her car. Even at her age, she was moving at an excited pace that would guarantee she'd be home before us.

  “I'll see you two at noon tomorrow, then?” Peters called as Grace and I also started to make our exit.

  “Count on it. You still do house calls?” I said, a fake smile on my face.

  “Of course.” she said. “I'll call before I head over.”

  Every bit of polite conversation between Peters and I felt like a lie that stood between Grace and safety, and I knew I wouldn't be satisfied until she was home. Unfortunately, we were only half-way to the door when I saw a limo pull up to the curb outside through the tinted glass door of the pizza parlor's entrance. I cursed under my breath as I watched a bald man in a business suit get out of the front of the limo before walking back and opening the rear door for the passengers inside.

  “Oh good, the other courts are here.” I heard Peters say as she looked past us toward the approaching royalty.

  “That's too bad, we were just leaving,” I said.

  “But you simply must stay, Chance, one doesn't get the opportunity to meet more than one of us very often, especially if you're not on trial.” Peters quirked a smile. “Would you stay if I offered to wipe your debt?”

  I paused, looking at Amber, then at Grace. Grace looked a bit confused. “Debt?” she mouthed the word to me, silently. I gave her a tiny nod before turning back to face Peters. Bee was long gone by that point, so I figured I could spare a second or two.

  “If I stay until two P.M. or you allow me to leave, you have to give Amber the rest of the medicine.” I said. “Everything Grace needs to recover completely.”

  “Done. But if you leave early, your debt to me doubles.” Peters said, gesturing at Gustav. The giant of a man handed Amber a metal case that was about twice the size as the other one had been.

  “Debt?” Grace asked aloud this time.

  “Amber, take Grace home. I'll take a cab.” I said. “Yes, I'm sure.” I added when she started to protest. Grace let go of my arm and gave me a look I knew was meant to tell me to be careful. I tried to give her a reassuring smile and stepped back, allowing Amber to escort her to my car. That's when the ladies from the limo and the tall bald guy came in, causing the little box above the door to chime. Peters walked past me, arms wide in greeting for the newcomers. “Ruby, Tiva, welcome. I'm so glad you could make it.”

  32

  I was far enough away from Peters, Tiva, and Ruby that I could discreetly step out of the entry area of the pizza parlor back into the dining room. Apparently unwilling to let me anywehre unsupervised, Gustav followed me enough to stand in the arched doorway, letting him see all three queens and keep me still within his line-of-sight. I didn't really care. I'm sure we were both keenly aware of how screwed I would be if I tried anything stupid, so he didn't seem too suspicious when I walked over to a soda fountain mounted to the wall near the doorway. Taking a transluscent red plastic cup, I tossed in some ice and dispensed myself a glass full of something bright red and carbonated. The card above the dispenser was labeled “Froot Pawnch,” and the blend of sweeteners and artificial fruit flavors was difficult to justify not pouring down the drain after my first sip.

  I could still hear the queens chit-chatting and exchaning small talk as if they were old friends, and I wondered how long it would be before they actually moved into the dining room. They could take their time, since Grace had all the meds she needed and I was content to sip on my caustic red soda until they were ready to acknowledge the presence a new face at the table. I didn't have to wait long, because all three women walked in to the dining room as I took my seat to check my phone. Figuring it was best to err on the side of caution in terms of ettiquette, I stood back up, since I read somewhere that was supposed to be the polite thing to do when a lady enters the room. Peters was still mid speech as she led the other two court leaders.

  “--and I know it's not the most formal atmosphere but I just cannot get enough of the food here. Ah, and here's the man of the hour.” Peters said, gesturing toward me like a game show showcase model displaying the hot prize the contestants were competing over.

  “Afternoon.” I said, with a slight nod. As my eyes carefully appraised each woman, I imagined I could almost feel the massive ammount of power each one seemed to radiate. Whether it was their Azoth, or their force of will, or some combination thereof, it was almost tangible.

  “This is Mr. Clarke, the newest alchemist that's popped up in my territory.” she said. “He's quite talented.”

  The first of the two women stepped forward to shake my hand in a firm grip. Her skin was tan and her obsidian-black hair was done in that style that involved shaving the sides of someone's head but letting the hair on top grow shoulder length or more. She was maybe an inch or two taller than me, but I wasn't sure if that was because of her incredibly stiff posture or the combat boots she was wearing. She wore a camoflauge winter jacket with a fleece collar, but otherwise was dressed in a casual sweater and dark blue jeans. The straps of a shoulder holster rested on either side of her neck, and I wondered if she was exempt from carrying a weapon like court leaders were allowed to sell gold. Although the coat she wore was bulky, the shirt underneath looked form-fitting and designed to let her move freely without giving someone extra fabric to grab onto.

  “Tiva. Choleric court.” She said, introducing herself. Her tone was stern, but her expression was neutral. The cadence and accent of her speech were strange to me, and although she spoke with perfectly enunciated English, I was willing to guess it wasn't her first language. I knew she was probably immortal like I'd heard any powerful alchemist was supposed to be, but if I had to guess her aparent age, I'd have put it relatively close to mine. She definitely didn't look older than her early thirties, at least.

  Tiva stepped aside and allowed the last queen, Ruby, to be the next to shake my hand over the table. Where Tiva looked like she was ready to kick some ass, Ruby looked more dressed for a night club than a fight. She wore a small leather jacket and a thin black tank top that bore a series of parallel horizontal cuts in the front to showcase thin lines of her pale skin. The shirt also revealed that she was wearing a red bra that matched the bright fire-engine color of her hair, lipstick, and the red jewel on the choker that hung around her throat. She looked barely old enough to drink, and I imagined she had to keep getting new fake Ids every two years if she never seemed to age. She held her hand out to me, palm down, and I wsn't sure if she was expecting me to shake her hand or kiss it.

  “That must make you Ruby.” I said, simply grasping her outstretched fingers for a moment before letting go. She frowned in a way that made her face go from supermodel-headshot material to something you would see on a creepy doll that watches you sleep. Since I knew the other two queens' affiliations, and Ruby's attire was a blatant clue even I couldn't miss, I figured it was safe to say she was the Sanguine queen.

  “Charmed.” she said. “Are you drunk or just exhausted? Your eyes are a
ll bloodshot.” Her voice carried an unmistakable new-yorker accent. “And you've got bags under your eyelids big enough to count as carry-on luggage.” She added.

  “I'm just a little tired.” I said. “Had a big project with a close deadline.” I said.

  “He's being modest,” Peters said, sauntering over to my side and wrapping her arm around mine as if I were her date at the prom. I felt like I was a fancy new garden set that was being shown off to the neighbors. “Chance just finished the biggest gold production project I've ever seen. It was more gold than I've seen a Phlegmatic fifty years his senior make in a year.” She said.

  “How much?” asked Ruby, raising an eyebrow and glancing up and down my body with an appraising look.

  “Six hundred pounds.” Peters chirped with pride. “And before you try to seduce him away, dear, he's sworn to sell exclusively to me,” she said, giving my arm a protective squeeze. “I had to promise quite a bit in return.” She said that last bit suggestively while leaning close and bringing her mouth close enough to my ear that she could have nibbled on it.

  “That's a lot of gold for a newbie.” said Tiva, nodding. I got the feeling that was high praise coming from her.