Clockwork Alchemist (The Thief's Apprentice Book 1)

by Sara C. Roethle

  A soft chuckle emanated from the bed. Arhyen smiled, then listened for a while, until her breathing caught the gentle rhythms of sleep. He had not been sure that it would work, but he hoped she truly slept. He shut his eyes, and soon followed behind her.

  Liliana awoke to the smell of something burning. She sat up in bed, more surprised by the feeling of waking up, than by the acrid scent of smoke. Though the smoke still held her concern. She glanced over her shoulder toward the kitchen to see Arhyen standing in front of the stove, softly cursing to himself as he scraped a spatula against a frying pan.

  She rose from the bed and padded her stocking-clad feet across the floor to stand at his side. He glanced at her, then jumped in surprise, apparently not having heard her approach. She looked down at the blackened frying pan and the indiscernible charred mass contained within.

  He cringed, then set down the spatula on the countertop. His dark hair was a mess, sticking to his face with sweat at his temples. “How about we go out for breakfast?” he offered.

  “I was hoping to work on the journal,” she explained.

  Not only did she suspect that Arhyen really needed it, but she was hoping someone would be able to tell them what the formulae inside would produce. Would it really create a soul, or was it something more nefarious? Part of her still hesitated to find out, but she knew that she must if she truly wanted to move on with her life.

  “Honestly, I was hoping you would offer,” he admitted. “I'm in a bit of a bind with my employer. He's not a terribly nice man.”

  Liliana nodded, then shooed Arhyen aside. She picked up the spatula and began scraping the remaining char from the pan, then glanced over to find him still watching her. Feeling uncomfortable, she emptied the pan into the waste bin, then wiped it clean with a nearby rag, already covered in a bit of char.

  “I was hoping to make you breakfast, as a small apology for all I put you through,” he explained. He moved to hover over her shoulder as she returned the pan to the stove.

  She glanced back at him in surprise. “For all you’ve put me through?” she asked, astonished. “You wouldn’t be involved in any of this if I hadn’t insisted on following you when you came for father’s journal.”

  “Ah, but I was the one who came for the journal in the first place,” he countered, raising a finger in the air to emphasize his point.

  Liliana sniffed petulantly, then dropped some oil into the pan and lit the burner. “And if you hadn’t come for it. I would still be sitting there in the dark.”

  Arhyen shook his head and laughed as Liliana perused the ingredients on the countertop. There were few.

  “We’re equal partners then,” he decided finally.

  Liliana smiled as she looked down at the pan, liking the idea of having a partner, then the words from her father’s letter echoed through her head, You are not human. You cannot live a normal life. Feeling suddenly melancholy, she reached for fresh eggs from a bowl on the countertop.

  “So you can cook?” Arhyen questioned, still standing behind her as she began to crack the eggs into the pan.

  “I cooked all my father’s meals,” she explained, feeling her voice hitch on the word father. Why had he made her if she was unable to lead a normal life? Had her purpose merely been to cook and clean, and to transcribe his notes?

  She'd occasionally been allowed to meet a few of her father’s colleagues, but they always looked upon her as a great invention, not a person. Had her father shared those views? He’d told her many times that he loved her, but perhaps it was not in the way that a father should love a daughter. Perhaps it was in the way that a carpenter might love a table carved by his own hands.

  Arhyen watched her silently for a few minutes as she cooked the eggs, then moved to cut several slices of bread. “Perhaps if you take the morning to work on the journal,” he began, “then I can begin the search for Victor Ashdown.”

  “I can't ask you to go to all that trouble yourself,” she countered instantly, unwilling to state the true reason why she might want to delay that meeting. Her father’s note had implied that Victor Ashdown was to take possession of her, and she wanted nothing to do with this unknown man. She was quite happy where she was, even though she worried about being a burden.

  “You’re putting all of this work into the journal for me,” he explained, interrupting her thoughts. “The least I can do is begin the search, then you can join me this afternoon.”

  Arhyen placed the sliced bread on a plate with a side of butter while she finished the eggs, then divided them between two more plates. Once she had removed the pan from the stove, placing it upon a metal trivet on the countertop, Arhyen filled the teakettle with water and set it to boil. Soon the tea was ready, and together they carried the filled cups and food laden plates to the table in front of the sofa. She had at first thought it odd that Arhyen didn't have a dining room table. Her father always took his meals at a special table just for that purpose, but she found she enjoyed sitting at the sofa, instead of a more formal arrangement.

  Seated on opposite ends of the sofa, they began to eat. She wasn’t sure she liked eggs as much as she’d hoped. They had an odd, almost slimy texture that was unappealing, or perhaps it was just her cooking. Had she been making her father’s eggs incorrectly all of those years? She reached for a slice of bread with butter, only to find that Arhyen had already eaten his half of bread, and had cleared his plate of eggs. How on earth had he eaten so fast? She suddenly began to grow nervous. If he was done eating, he would probably prepare to leave. She wasn't looking forward to being left alone in the apartment again, and the idea of finishing the journal only added to her anxiety.

  Arhyen stood with his empty plate and took it into the kitchen, then returned to stand before her. “I won't be gone long,” he explained, causing her stomach to drop. “We can go out for lunch and continue our search for information in the process. Hopefully by the time I return, I will already have some leads on Victor Ashdown.”

  Liliana nodded in acceptance, unwilling to reveal her petty fears. She wanted to ask him to stay, but could think of no adequate excuse. Resigned to her fate, she turned her attention to the alchemy books stacked on the table as Arhyen walked away and let himself out the front door. She heard the locks being slid into place from outside and couldn’t help but twist her head to stare the door, hoping Arhyen would change his mind and return.

  When locks stayed locked, and the closed door did not reopen, she turned back to her books, determined to focus on her task. She was quite sure she had learned all she could from their pages, and was now prepared to write the special formulae that Arhyen needed, though the books would still serve as a handy reference. She opened the blank journal, retrieved a pen from the table, and began to write.

  Her hand slowly scrawled the components that had made her what she was. Would Victor Ashdown know what they meant? Would he tell her that she was just an object, like any other automaton? She felt a tear slip down her face as she considered the possible outcomes. If it turned out that she was just a soulless construct, she might as well just return to her home, to remain in darkness, never to emerge again.

  Arhyen placed his bowler cap on his head as he strolled down the street. He would first pay a visit to one of his friends who worked for the Postal Service. The friend owed him numerous favors, and likely would not mind keeping an eye out for the name of Victor Ashdown to eliminate some of that debt.

  Next, he would visit some of the local apothecaries to see if they had any valuable information. He would have to be cautious in his search to avoid drawing any unwanted attention. Word traveled fast throughout London, especially among the common folk, and he didn't want to alert Victor that someone was looking for him. Before that happened, he wanted ample time to scope Victor out. If Victor was a less than honorable character, then he would find a different way to discover the answers they sought. Liliana might not be his to protect, but he would not leave her in the hands of an indecent man.

 
; Then, there was the fact that it was the masked man who had provided them with Liliana’s father's letter. It could all be some elaborate trap, but to what end? He had already stolen Fairfax Breckenridge’s journal. The only other thing he might want was Liliana herself. At that thought, he almost turned back around, but forced himself to move forward toward the busy London streets. If the masked man truly wanted her, he would have taken her the previous night, or when Arhyen left her alone in his apartment the previous day. It was something else. Something that had everything to do with Victor Ashdown.

  Clouds moved to obscure the sun as he emerged onto the main street. It was often rainy in London, but for some reason, Arhyen felt the clouds held ill omens. He picked up his pace, barely even noticing his surroundings, so intent was he on his task. A few more blocks and he had reached the red brick walls of the postmaster’s office. Hopefully William, known to his friends as Willy, would be inside. If not, Arhyen could not waste the time it would take to scour his route. Instead, he would continue on with his plans, then return for Willy later.

  He was about to venture inside, when something caught his sight further up the street. It had only been the briefest glimpse, but he could've sworn one of the women that walked on ahead of him had been wearing a mask. He watched the woman's back, growing steadily smaller in the distance. She wore deep red in the fine fabrics and ruffled skirts of the upper class, and held a black parasol overhead to shield herself from the sun. She walked alone, not glancing back.

  Arhyen wanted to race after her, but forced himself to keep an even pace as he strolled away from the entrance to the postmaster's office. He didn't want the woman to realize he was following her until it was too late for her to run, though as he walked, the woman seemed to increase her pace, or was it only his imagination? He hurried along, weaving his way through the crowd. Something white flitted to the ground from the woman’s gloved palm. Some sort of note? Did she realize that he followed, or had she lost the paper on accident? Either way, he desperately wanted to see what was on it.

  He raced forward to fill the space she’d vacated and crouched quickly to pick it up, then stuffed it into his pocket. He resumed his chase. Moments after he retrieved the paper, the woman glanced back, giving him a clearer look at her mask. It appeared to be the same one the masked man had worn, or else something very similar. It seemed almost lifelike, until closer observation revealed the coloring was a tad too white, and the texture just a bit too smooth to be human skin, not to mention the strange look it gave to the eyes peeking out. She glanced back again and looked directly at Arhyen for a moment, then took off down the sidewalk at a jog. At her quickened pace, the passersby began to take notice.

  “Oi!” one man called out as the woman nearly collided with him.

  Arhyen began to run, intent on not letting her get away.

  She veered right into a nearby shop. Not even taking the time to note what type of shop it was, Arhyen followed in after her, letting the door slam shut behind him with a loud bang. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a large belly covered by a white apron, put his hands up in surrender as Arhyen came to a skidding halt in front of his counter. There was a hallway behind the man leading deeper into the building. Arhyen listened as another door opened and slammed shut, somewhere near the end of the hall.

  Not bothering to ask for permission, he vaulted over the counter and continued to give chase. He rounded a bend in the hallway, lined with boxes of various goods, then found the door. He flung it open and raced out into the back alleyway, then looked right and left, peering around trash heaps and stacks of wooden crates. The alleyway reeked of garbage, but it barely fazed him. There was no one in sight. The woman had escaped. He listened a moment more, but heard no sound of retreating footfalls.

  Heaving a frustrated sigh, he began walking, wanting to put distance between himself and the shop he’d barged through. As he walked, he looked down at the paper in his hand. It read:

  Lowfield Road and Newland Street. 10pm. Come alone.

  ~V

  He paused to consider the words. Lowfield Road was in the industrial district, if he recalled correctly. Nothing resided there except warehouses and manufacturing plants, mainly for steel. Could V stand for Victor? If Victor was associated with the masked man and woman, that would mean he had stolen Fairfax’s journal. This could all be an elaborate trap to get his hands on Liliana, but if it was, why the extra step? They were already searching for Victor Ashdown. If this was all a ploy to kidnap Liliana, then why did the note say to come alone? If they simply wanted to eliminate the complication he might pose, they could have done it right that moment, while he was standing alone in an alleyway.

  That thought got him moving. He would circle back around to the postmaster’s office and continue on with his original plan. He needed to find as much information on Victor Ashdown as possible before 10 PM. Once he had that information, he would decide whether or not he would attend the meeting.

  He strode forward, thoughts of Victor Ashdown, Fairfax Breckenridge, and the ticking bomb that was Clayton Blackwood on his mind. Underneath it all, were thoughts of Liliana. She didn't deserve to be involved with any of these men. Most of all, she didn't deserve to be involved with him.

  Chapter 8

  Liliana bit her lip in concentration as she added the final touches to the freshly written formula. It was the fourth one she had written, and she was quite sure that she had them all correct. Now, if only she knew just what they would create.

  Keys turning in the various locks of the door drew her attention. She pushed a lock of red hair behind her ear, glancing at the door apprehensively. Suddenly unsure if she wanted to show Arhyen her work right away, she closed the journal, concealing, but hopefully not smudging, the freshly written page, and placed it in her lap.

  The door swung inward to admit Arhyen. He removed his black cap, then looked at her curiously. “Willy is on the lookout,” he announced with a smile. At Liliana's questioning gaze, he elaborated, “Willy is a post-man. He's going to attempt to find Victor Ashdown's address for us.” He shut and locked the door behind him, then moved to join Liliana on the sofa. As soon as he sat, he glanced down at the journal in her lap. “Any luck?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Should she tell him it was done? If he knew she’d the finished journal, things would move forward. She would find out the purpose of the formulae. She took a deep breath. “It's done,” she admitted. If she ever wanted to find her purpose, she would first have to learn what she really was.

  Arhyen’s face lit up with excitement. “Good heavens, you remembered everything?” he asked, sounding somewhat astonished.

  She lifted the journal from her lap and handed it to him, then fell silent as he perused the contents. She had only filled the first few pages, but they were the most important. They held the four formulae that Arhyen had originally been seeking.

  He frowned as he read what she had written, then looked up at her. “And this is all it takes to create a soul? I don't know much about alchemy, but this all seems so simple.”

  “I don't know if I really have a soul,” she admitted. “That's what my father called it, but in all of my reading I have never been able to figure out what the soul really is. It seems impossible to truly create one.” She watched his face carefully, waiting for his reaction. She didn't like admitting that she might not have a soul, but wanted to know what he truly felt about it. If it would dissuade him from working with her, she wanted to know now.

  He smiled warmly, surprising her. He closed the journal and placed it on the table, then brushed his dark hair out of his face and shifted his legs toward her on the sofa. “I don't know much about souls, but I can tell you one thing. You are not a normal automaton. You are not a thing, or a tool. You are a person. No matter what we find, I will continue to think of you as a person.”

  She inhaled sharply. How had he known just what she was thinking? “If I find that I do not have a soul, I fe
ar how I will view myself,” she explained. “I fear that I will not be deserving of a purpose, at least, not in the way that real people deserve it. I fear that I will have wasted your time, and that I will not be worthy of your training.”

  Arhyen shook his head. “I'm still not sure you understand what it means to become a thief. I may be one of the best, but it is no grand profession. It is nothing that someone can be worthy or unworthy of.”

  “I'd like to differ,” she argued. “I think it is a fine profession, if it is one chosen by a man like you. I may not have met very many people so far, but you are still the only one that has treated me like my thoughts matter. You are the only one who has offered me food, even though I do not need it, simply because I might enjoy the taste. You are the only one who has offered me a bed, even though I do not require sleep. So, if being a thief means that I will be more like you, then I think it is a fine profession that only the most worthy of people deserve.”

  Arhyen seemed completely taken aback. He did not speak for a full minute, and instead just shook his head slowly. When he finally spoke, he took her hand. “Here I was trying to cheer you up, but it seems you have cheered me instead. No matter what we find, I will continue to teach you anything you want. If you truly desire to be a thief, I will teach you to be one even greater than I.”

  Filled with elation, Liliana grinned. She still feared finding out whether or not she had a soul, but if Arhyen could accept her without one, then perhaps she could learn to accept it herself. Perhaps she did not have to live in the darkness, in a place she could simply no longer view as her home.

  As soon as he had refilled his satchel with supplies, Arhyen left the apartment with Liliana by his side. The new journal was nestled within his satchel, in an inner pocket that would be difficult to steal from unless someone stole the satchel entirely. No one knew that they had the new journal, but he simply could not risk losing it once again. Besides the journal, he had packed a few other supplies that he only carried in the direst of times.