by Jason Parker
“You won’t have to wait much longer.” Korbin turned and waved his right hand in the air. He departed through the doorway with the mystery man. Laurela presumed he was the advance rider. She made a few feeble attempts at striking up idle chatter with a couple of technicians, but all she could think about was Cultivachek and her experiment. The conversations quickly petered out and she ended up standing alone feeling awkward and self-conscious.
After an excruciating wait, Korbin reentered the center with Cultivachek. As they removed their rain dampened overcoats Laurela inhaled deeply and started toward the grandfatherly white-haired man. Before she had taken two steps, Draia squealed with delight, ran to Cultivachek and enfolded him with an enthusiastic hug and peck on the cheek.
“Draia, child, it’s good to see you,” Cultivachek said with a smile. He warmly returned her embrace.
After a few moments, Korbin subtly separated them and motioned toward Laurela. “Cultivachek, I’d like you to meet the newest member of our staff, Laurela Frankev. Laurela graduated from the Delon Institute last spring and has been a valuable addition to the center.”
Cultivachek looked at her quizzically. He then smiled, shook her hand, and offered a perfunctory, “So nice to meet you, dear.”
Before Laurela could respond, he looked around the rest of the room and spoke loudly, “It is so nice to see all of you once again!”
Korbin gently grasped his arm and assisted him toward the area in front of the arranged chairs. Everyone took a seat. Stunned and awestruck by Cultivachek, Laurela was slow to react and ended up in the last available chair at the end of the third row. She grimaced as she noticed Draia was firmly planted in the center of the front row next to Korbin.
Cultivachek spoke for about thirty minutes on a new steam pump for the irrigation systems he helped design. The new pump was thirty percent smaller than the current models and twice as powerful. He said it was in the final stages of testing and the goal was to have it available for commercial use by the start of the spring planting season.
Cultivachek was an engaging speaker. The details about the new steam pump and its uses were interesting, yet Laurela found her anxiety rising with each word. Her mind sifted through scenarios for demonstrating her experiment to him making it difficult for her to fully focus on the topic. Cultivachek concluded by saying he would be conducting an in depth workshop tomorrow morning on efficient crop rotation and effective soil treatments for optimal nutrient replenishment. After that, he would be available for individual questions and discussion for the remainder of the afternoon.
As Dane predicted, Draia immediately stood up, looped her arm around the crook of Cultivachek’s elbow, and guided him toward her office. Then she closed the door behind them. Laurela looked toward Dane who winked at her and silently mouthed, “Remember what I said.”
She nodded and then busied herself by helping the technicians fill orders for insecticides. She made sure to position herself with a clear view of Draia’s lab door in case Cultivachek should emerge.
After an hour she cleaned her hands in a basin and decided it was time to politely interrupt.
She could hear laughter as she approached Draia’s door. When she knocked, the laughter continued for a few moments and then Draia said, “Come in.”
Laurela opened the door and peeked in. She saw the two of them sitting together on a small sofa. Gripping the knob and as genuinely as possible she said, “I’m so sorry to intrude, but I was hoping to borrow you, sir, for a while.” Laurela looked from one to the other and waited.
“Certainly,” Draia said with a sweet smile—seemingly heartfelt, but Laurela knew better. “I suppose I have been occupying all his time.”
“Lauren, was it?” Cultivachek asked.
“Laurela, sir,” she corrected.
“Oh yes,” he said as he snapped his fingers. “I’ve been trying to recall how I know you, dear. You were a friend of our recently anointed Scientist, Nightlocke. Remarkable young man, that one.”
“Yes, sir,” she responded, “Nightlocke is a good friend and I’m hoping he will pay us a visit in the not too distant future.”
“Now young lady,” he said in mock consternation and shook a finger at her, “if you call me ‘sir’ one more time, I’m going to have to bean you one. Call me ‘Cultivachek’ if you must, but all my friends call me ‘Cee’.”
“He’s not joking,” Draia giggled. “I’ve seen him rattle a couple of people about the head for continually calling him ‘sir’.”
Laurela was certain Draia would love to see her suffer the same fate.
Cultivachek patted Draia on the knee and slowly rose to his feet. “The old bones are getting tougher to move,” he sighed.
Draia stood to steady him. “You take good care of him, Laurela.” She gave him a peck on the cheek. “I’ll meet you for dinner in a couple of hours, Cee.”
“Looking forward to it, my dear,” he responded, offering a wave as he departed Draia’s office with Laurela.
Laurela was irked that Draia had already made dinner plans with Cultivachek, but her annoyance quickly dissipated when she realized she was finally going to spend one-on-one time with her hero. A smile crept across her lips despite her best efforts to contain her giddiness and heed Dane’s advice to remain calm.
As they approached her lab, Cultivachek asked, “What exactly is it you need my help with, dear?”
“I’m not quite sure how to describe it, sir, I mean, Cee” Laurela replied as they entered the lab. “I know that sounds peculiar, but it will make more sense once I show you…or at least I hope it will.”
She scowled and silently berated herself for already starting to babble.
He rubbed his wrinkled hands together. “Very well, you’ve managed to pique my curiosity.”
She led him to her lab bench then stopped and turned toward him. “I’m sorry. The results I’ve been getting are very unusual. Maybe I should run a few more trials and verify my findings before wasting your time.”
Cultivachek put an arm around her shoulders. “Nonsense, my dear. Some of the greatest scientific achievements have come about from unusual circumstances. Let me tell you the story of how I invented the icer. It may put your mind at ease.”
Laurela nodded enthusiastically. “I’d love to hear it.”
“Very well,” he said looking around the lab. “Might I have a seat?”
“Certainly,” she replied. She pulled her desk chair next to the lab bench for Cultivachek and found a stool for herself.
He sat and rubbed his chin with his index finger and thumb. “Many years ago, before facilities such as this one were built, I was working in a lab on my family’s farm outside of Dirka. I was developing a fertilizer capable of replenishing the nitrogen content of soil to precise levels.”
Laurela jumped to her feet. “Yes I’m familiar with the ammonium nitrate based crystals you formulated. We make them here regularly so farmers can use them to achieve optimal nitrogen saturation in their soil.”
“Excellent, my dear,” Cultivachek chuckled and motioned for her to sit. “Back then my lab was constantly plagued with infestations of rats, mice, and other small vermin. To take care of this problem, I adopted one of my family’s barn cats to patrol the lab.” He paused and smiled. “Ah, I miss that one. His name was Tommy. Black and white and sleek as silk. A ferocious hunter, but sweet as honey.”
Laurela nodded. “I know what you mean. I have a cat named Dapple. They sure have a way of winning a place in your heart.”
“Ah, you’re a cat person,” he said shaking a finger at her. “Us cat people have to stick together.”
“Agreed,” she giggled.
Cultivachek cleared his throat. “Now then, one spring morning while I was conducting a final test to validate the effectiveness of my ammonium nitrate crystals I was startled by a plump rat scurrying across my foot. I leaped back only to see Tommy flying toward me in mid pounce. I lurched out of the way, stumbled, and spilled the beaker of c
rystals I was holding into a basin of water.”
Laurela put a hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh. Cultivachek raised his eyebrows then chuckled. “I’m sure it was quite a sight. Anyway, Tommy strutted away with his prize between his teeth and I reached into the basin to clear out the shards of beaker glass. When my fingers touched the water, I immediately withdrew them. The water was so cold, it almost burned.”
Laurela grasped the sides of her stool to keep from jumping up again. “So this was your inspiration for the icer?”
“Well, yes,” he mused, “but not immediately. I noted my findings and then quickly forgot about the incident until a particularly stifling afternoon a few months later. I needed chilled water for an experiment and I was having an impossible time maintaining the cool temperature. I recalled the incident, retrieved my notes and the tumblers began turning.”
Rays of sunlight suddenly scattered across the lab. Laurela looked up to see the clouds parting. The transparent roof was spattered with droplets, but the rain had not been heavy.
Cultivachek squinted and raised a hand over his eyes. “At the first opportunity I traveled to Caleria to visit Scientist Mekhane, a former classmate of mine at the Delon Institute. Her specialty was mechanical engineering and she was working in the city of Incandor on the development of mining machinery.”
Laurela stood and held out her hand. “Let me help you up so we can adjust your chair. There’s no reason for you to stare into the sun.”
She rearranged the seats and Cultivachek settled back down. “Thank you, my dear. Much better. Now then, Mekhane was intrigued by my discovery and ideas for a cooling appliance. We worked feverishly for several months and developed a working prototype of a device capable of circulating air through the ammonium nitrate solution to effectively decrease a room’s air temperature. We capriciously called our prototype “the icer”. The owner of the company Mekhane worked for loved it. He paid us handsomely for the prototype and designs. Before we knew it, the device was spreading throughout Gandany.”
Laurela smiled. “And the name stuck.”
“Yes,” Cultivachek nodded. “Much to our dismay. Such a silly name, but there was little we could do about it.”
“Well, it’s the invention that’s important, not really the name,” Laurela said. She looked toward the icerator sitting on the end of the lab bench. “I’m more upset Wexworth used your designs as the basis for creating the icerator without giving you proper credit.”
Cultivachek waived dismissively. “The designs were no longer mine. Mekhane and I sold those long ago. And as you said, it’s the invention that’s important.”
Laurela smiled. “I guess I did say that.”
Cultivachek clapped his hands together and shook them. “Now, my dear, the point of my tale was to show you how scientific innovation can arise from unusual, often silly circumstances. Please show me what you’ve discovered without any fear of judgment.”
CHAPTER 19
Jhenna slowly traversed the dimly lit main corridor of the Corava Castle science facility. She paused and leaned against the wall under an incandium lamp. Impending doom, she thought. She pulled the hood of her white clergy robe over her head to hide her anxiety. An acrid burnt metallic smell permeated the dank air which, combined with the dim light and drab décor, created an aura of creepiness. Her hands shook as she tugged her hood down closer to her eyes.
“Please, Keyaul, give me strength,” she quietly prayed. She felt a small surge of energy and willed her feet to start moving down the corridor.
From the last doorway on the right at the end of the hall, light spilled into the corridor. She knew the doorway led into the Master Scientist’s labs. Strangely, all the other doors along the corridor were closed and no light shone from beneath them. She knew Wexworth had a large staff. Where is everyone? she wondered.
As she neared the open door, she took a deep breath, girded herself and stepped into the room. She was startled to find a tall, stocky man in a black lab coat standing right in front of her. The man glanced at her with cold dark eyes, a pitted face, and about a quarter inch of dark hair stubble on his head, cheeks, and chin. The name Jurg was sewn in white thread on the left breast of his lab coat. Even though he didn’t look the part, she presumed he was a lab technician.
“Can I help you, Priestess?” he asked in a voice much gentler than his appearance.
“Yes, thank you,” she responded, surprised by the confidence in her voice. “I need to speak with the Master Scientist.”
Jurg looked her over carefully, almost suspiciously. “Do you have an appointment?”
“Uh, no,” she replied with feigned disheartenment. “I didn’t realize I needed one.” Actually, she suspected Wexworth’s schedule would have been full if she’d asked for an appointment.
Jurg shrugged. “I’ll see if he is available.”
He disappeared through a doorway on the left side of the lab. There were several work stations in the lab neatly equipped with a variety of flasks, beakers and burners. None were occupied. She could hear sounds from a closed door beyond the one Jurg had entered, but could discern nothing clearly.
“Sir, a Priestess is here to see you,” she heard Jurg’s muffled voice say.
“The High Priestess?” a second voice asked with pitched excitement.
“No, I would have said so if it was her,” Jurg responded. “It’s another Priestess. I don’t recognize her.”
“Oh,” the now deflated voice responded. “Did she say what she wanted?”
“No, sir.”
“And it didn’t occur to you to ask?” the voice said with exasperation.
“No, sir, but I can if you would like.”
“Never mind, just tell her I will be with her shortly.”
A few moments later, Jurg re-emerged and informed her of what she had already heard. “I apologize for not inviting you in, but some dangerous experiments are in progress,” he explained. “I wouldn’t want you to come to any harm.”
She smiled and nodded as she re-examined the empty lab. The place was pristine. No experimentation of any kind appeared to be under way. Maybe he was referring to the sounds coming from the closed door in the back of the lab?
Jurg walked to a shelf on the right side of the lab and began shuffling glassware around. He frequently looked up in her direction and appeared to have little interest in what he was doing. As he stooped to open a crate, she caught the glint of a sword hilt beneath his lab coat. She studied him. He was not only tall, but also quite burly. She thought, if you removed the lab coat he would look much more like a soldier or hired blade than a lab technician. She wondered why the science facility required extra security, covert no less, beyond what was provided by the castle watch. Her thoughts were interrupted as Wexworth strutted toward her.
He wore a ruby red lab coat with tendrils of black flame embroidered along the cuffs. It was finished off by a matching waistcoat over a black shirt and black trousers. He examined her with a squint as he stopped a few feet away from her and smoothed his waistcoat.
“I don’t believe we have met, Priestess,” he said with a look of impatience. Then he quickly added with a glint of hopefulness, “Did the High Priestess send you?”
“No,” she answered, curious about the preoccupation with the High Priestess. “My name is Jhenna. I oversee the castle infirmary and we have met. Once, a few years ago.”
“The infirmary?” Wexworth wrinkled his nose with obvious distaste. “I wasn’t aware it was necessary to have a member of the clergy oversee the infirmary.”
Jhenna immediately regretted mentioning the infirmary. Doing so had clearly reduced her standing in his eyes to someone insignificant. On second thought, being underestimated might work to her advantage. She pressed on. “I’m sorry to trouble you, but I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on an incident from a couple of weeks ago outside the audience chamber. I believe you were in conference with the Triumvirate at the time.”
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��I meet with the Triumvirate frequently,” he said with exasperation. “With all due respect Priestess, I am quite busy. Is there a point to all this?” He folded his arms and tapped his toe.
She glanced behind Wexworth at Jurg. He was absently holding a beaker and had dropped all pretense of being busy. His attention was entirely on their conversation.
“The incident involved a guardsman who collapsed in great pain outside the chamber door. Do you recall this?” she asked.
“It would be difficult to forget, the man was baying like a sick animal,” Wexworth said, giving his waistcoat a tug and furrowing his brow.
Jhenna studied him for any hint of apprehension or guilt, but detected nothing. If he was responsible for the incident, he concealed it well.
“I appreciate you have other matters requiring your attention, so I’ll cut to the chase,” she said. “The guardsman was brought into my care and I found he had been introduced to a type of non-lethal poison that incites the body’s pain receptors. This type of poison is not something one would encounter by chance. The only place I can even imagine finding it around here would be in a science lab.”
Wexworth’s eyes widened and he put his hands on his chest. “Are you suggesting that I or one of my staff poisoned this man?” he asked.
“Of course, not,” she replied shaking her head. “But if you do have a supply of this poison, is it possible any of it could have gone missing?”
“Why would I have desert lizard venom in my lab?” he retorted with a sneer.
Jhenna smiled, “I never said it was desert lizard venom.”
Wexworth smoothed his waistcoat again. His haughty expression faltered, but it quickly returned. “I’m an accomplished Master Scientist, what else could it possibly be?” Not waiting for an answer he began shooing her away. “Now, if you will excuse me, Priestess, I need to attend to more pressing matters.”
He spun on his heel and quickly disappeared through the doorway from which he had earlier emerged. Prior to their discussion, she was suspicious of Wexworth’s involvement in Skenan’s poisoning. Now, she was now almost certain of his guilt. She waved to Jurg who gave her a strange look and a half-wave in return. The corridor was still dark and dank and the odd smell persisted, but the walk along it was not nearly as foreboding in departure as it had been in arrival.