“You told me to ExSponge the both of them.”
Ravian nodded. “Would’ve saved you thirteen years of hobbling around this hole. But you needn’t worry. I bypassed all those little booby traps you set up along the way to alert you of any B.R.E.W. intruders who might try to sneak up on you, and I waltzed right up to your front door without you knowing.” Ravian winked. “Now, how did I do that?”
Mezzarix dragged his dry tongue across his lower lip. “I suppose it was sheer dumb luck.”
Ravian laughed heartily. “You might be righter than you know.” He rolled back the woolly sleeve of his coat to reveal his bare forearm. “You’ve seen almost everything, old friend. Every draught and droplet.” He took a step closer, and Mezzarix noticed a faint layer of substance coating Ravian’s skin. “But you haven’t seen this. I guarantee it.”
Mezzarix’s nostrils flared as he attempted to Decipher the various components of the strange substance. He took in a whiff of air but came up almost empty, only smelling Ravian’s body odor and a small inventory of potions concealed within the man’s satchel at his side. Those Mezzarix could identify without exerting any effort: a paper packet of Detection Powder, an ampoule of Ogon Oil, and a billfold of sundry ingredients. If the substance on Ravian’s arm was a potion, it should have given off a hint of something. But he couldn’t sense anything other than a vaguely oily taste on the back of his tongue.
“It’s called Silt,” Ravian offered. “This gives me the power to be here, for as long as needed, even after it dissolves.”
“And this Silt has the ability to tell you where people are hiding as well?” There were potions that could cloak an Elixirist so they could pass beneath a ward undetected, but they were rare and difficult to make and, in most instances, not worth the hassle. Ravian never struck Mezzarix as someone with the patience to brew one of those. But a potion with a built-in tracking device? Mezzarix had never heard of such a thing.
“Oh, my lands, no. But a few months ago, I came across something particularly interesting in the Swigs.” Ravian plunged his hand beneath his thick coat and pulled out a gnarled, gray rib bone. “There’s no mistaking your handiwork. I sensed great potionery, and, with just the right mixture of sprig and herb, that bone acted as a fine homing device.” He tossed the bone to Mezzarix. “I believe it belongs to your friend outside.”
Mezzarix hadn’t noticed if Doll had been missing any parts, but then again, he had never taken the time to inspect Doll in the first place. Mezzarix stared at the bone with disgust and tossed it aside. Stroking his chin beneath his bedraggled beard, he sat down in his chair as the clickety-clack sound of skeletal feet echoed through the cave.
Doll hefted the empty bucket across the room and then dropped it in the corner, all the while ignoring the stranger standing beside the bookshelves. Doll did, however, take notice of the bone—his bone—lying on the ground. Slowly picking it up, he tilted his head toward Mezzarix, as if to ask where it had come from.
“Don’t look at me.” Mezzarix jutted his chin toward Ravian, and the skeleton swiveled to face the stranger. “Doll used to be more helpful,” Mezzarix said dryly. “He would bring me all sorts of wonderful things. That is until my daughters strengthened the wards of my banishment. Now he’s more of a nuisance.” Doll looked back at his master, his shoulders drooping slightly. “Enough of this talk. Where did you find this Silt?”
“My new friend gave it to me. Just an ampoule. Enough to lead me safely here.”
“This friend of yours, did they come along for your evening jog?”
Ravian shook his head. “I’m afraid not. She has a thing against flying in airplanes, and a journey to this miserable rock would’ve taken ages by boat. Though she remained behind, she’s anxiously awaiting my return.”
“Well, then I shouldn’t delay you any longer.” Mezzarix leveled his eyes. “The way out is back the way you came in.”
The heavier man started to chuckle. “Oh, I’ll go. But I’d like you to come with me.”
Mezzarix regarded Ravian with little interest. He had never been one to let anyone ruffle his feathers. “And go where?” he asked. “The weather’s not fitting for a hike, and I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed with the scenery.”
Ravian shook his head. “I have no desire to tour your bleak mountain. I want you to take a short leave of absence from this island so I may introduce you to my friend. She has an interesting proposition—one I know you’ll be keen to hear.” He flashed his arm again, the Silt faintly glowing upon his skin. “This does more than just sneak you past wards and into the Forbidden Zone. It does many wondrous things. And if you agree to my friend’s terms, she’ll help free you—permanently.”
“Why does she need me?”
“She needs the best of the best. That’s why she came to me first, clearly.” His eyes twinkled. “And after I ran through a list of people we could recruit for this mission—all of whom, of course, have been dead for many years—I finally remembered my old friend Mezzarix and said to myself, ‘That’s who we need.’ You still know a thing or two about Replication, do you not?”
Mezzarix sighed with annoyance. “I dabble. But, you know, it’s like riding a bike.”
“Then this will be your finest Replication work of all.”
Despite knowing Ravian for many years, Mezzarix had never considered him a friend. He didn’t mind doing business with him, but he wasn’t someone he could trust. “I take it this Silt can’t lift my banishment for me, then, can it?”
Ravian shook his head. “I’m afraid the only thing that can accomplish that is the Vessel. But what if I told you my friend could help us overthrow B.R.E.W. and take the Vessel?”
“I’d say the cold has had an unfortunate side effect on your brain.” Mezzarix reclined in his chair and interlocked his fingers behind his head. “How do you propose I follow you?”
“I find it hard to believe that the great Mezzarix Rook, Scourge of Nations, has been stewing in this cave all these years and hasn’t come up with a temporary exit strategy. Surely you’ve thought about taking a stroll beyond the boundaries.”
Ravian crossed the room to the workstation, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed the chemicals in the air. “How you ever concocted a single brew in this place is a testament of your greatness,” he said. “I’m sure the two of our minds, melded together, could work out a plan.”
Mezzarix sighed and glanced over his shoulder at the malfunctioning potion brewing beneath the kerosene torch, his eyes flashing toward the plastic bags containing a strand of his grandson Gordy’s hair and a Replicated copy. “There might be something we can do,” he said, the inklings of an idea beginning to form in his mind. “But I’m going to need a lot of special ingredients.”
Ravian removed a pad of paper and a pencil from beneath his coat and dabbed the lead tip to his tongue. “Shall we make a list?”
The practice lab at B.R.E.W. Headquarters looked like a normal chemistry classroom, minus the rows of desks and students. There was a blackboard with chalk and an eraser, a bookshelf in one corner of the room with a few books leaning against each other, and a weathered Bunsen burner with a fraying fuel line resting on a center table. In preparation for Gordy’s training, his mom had already laid out several ingredients, along with a midsized copper cauldron and a row of glass containers.
Upon entering the room, Max dropped his backpack on the floor with a thud. “So, where are all the potions and stuff? Where are all the Elixirists?”
“We passed a whole bunch of Elixirists on the way in,” Gordy said, taking extra caution to lower his backpack to the ground. His bag doubled as his potion satchel and needed to be handled with care.
“Seriously?” Adilene asked, her face alight with childish glee. She’d oohed and aahed as they’d passed through the security checkpoints leading up to the enormous hexagonal building. And she’d flashed her temporary v
isitor’s badge to anyone within shouting distance. For Adilene, she just loved being invited along for the ride.
“They have to be Elixirists to work here at B.R.E.W.,” Gordy replied.
Max twirled his finger. “Sure. Right. Whatever. When do we start blowing stuff up, Gandalf?” In a way, Gordy felt bad for his best friend. He knew Max had hoped to find wizened old men with beards and robes and carrying staves, but that wasn’t the case. Aside from the odd-looking Bolter, most Elixirists looked like everyday office workers. Max should have known that. Nine months ago, he had accompanied Gordy into B.R.E.W. Headquarters in order to save Adilene and her family. Not much had changed since that incident, aside from the extra guards patrolling the grounds.
“Are we ready?” Gordy’s mom announced as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She looked tired, but that wasn’t new. As Lead Investigator, she often spent days hunting down some of the nastiest Elixirists across the country.
Mrs. Stitser had pulled her light-brown hair back into a bun, and she wore glasses. Gordy hardly ever saw her wear glasses, mostly because she preferred the specially treated contact lenses she had made in their home lab, ones that enhanced her vision and could flash over a hundred different programmed recipes in her line of sight whenever she mixed potions. She also wore dress slacks and a button-up blouse. Her name badge was clasped to a lanyard around her neck. To Gordy, his mom looked oddly professional.
“I think we’re ready,” Gordy answered. At least, he was as ready as he could be having not known his mom’s expectations prior to this afternoon. Over the past couple of months, she had been distant, working long hours on special projects.
“And your lab partners?” She looked down at her clipboard and penciled in a few items on the page. “Are they prepared to assist you?”
“We’re ready to do whatever you tell us!” Adilene volunteered enthusiastically.
Gordy grinned as Adilene removed a pad of paper from her backpack and several colored markers for taking notes. On one of the pages she had written Elixirist Training in bright purple ink.
“I still don’t understand why we can’t do this at your home,” Max said. “You have way more ingredients in your lab.”
Gordy’s mom glanced up from her clipboard and cleared her throat. “Because, as Gordy already knows, a Dram is not allowed to brew questionable potions within the confines of a home laboratory. Only mixtures from B.R.E.W.-approved recipe manuals are permitted.”
Gordy raised an eyebrow. Why did his mom sound as though she were reciting a prepared speech? Had that been written on her clipboard? Gordy had never seen the inside of a B.R.E.W.-approved recipe manual. Did they even have any of those in their lab?
Max grinned. “We brew questionable potions all the time, Mrs. Stits.”
Gordy had a potion journal filled with semi-dangerous concoctions—most of which his mom didn’t know existed. Of course, she could have found out at any time if she wanted, but Mrs. Stitser often turned a blind eye to Gordy’s potion making. He liked to think she trusted him.
Gordy’s mom returned her attention to the clipboard and made a mark on the page. “In order to advance beyond the level of a Dram, Gordy needs to be observed brewing these approved potions in a sanctioned laboratory.” She raised her voice and pointed to the ceiling, where a small, round security camera had been angled in their direction. Then, with her eyes flashing a warning, she silenced Max from pressing the issue any further.
Adilene glanced up from taking notes to look between Max and Mrs. Stitser.
Gordy elbowed Max in the ribs. “Be quiet, dude. You’re going to get us all in trouble.” The camera meant they were currently under observation, which also meant someone important, probably a high-ranking officer at B.R.E.W., was watching them. If they found out Gordy wasn’t following the guidelines for Drams in training, they might prevent him from advancing to the level of an Elixirist.
Max rolled his eyes. “I guess that means we’re going to be brewing chicken broth the rest of the afternoon, huh?”
“I don’t make the rules; I just follow them,” Gordy’s mom said, her tone softening. Somewhere in the back of Gordy’s mind, he could almost hear his Aunt Priss laughing hysterically at that comment. “Now, Max, if you don’t feel up to the task, or if this isn’t going to be fun for you, I can make arrangements for someone to take you home. Gordy will do just fine with Adilene. One lab partner is usually the standard, but I’ve made an exception because of Gordy’s insistence.”
Max scoffed. “Whatever. Me and Gordy are a team. We’re like Bonnie and . . .” He scrunched up his face. “That’s a bad example. We’re like Frodo and Sam.”
“What’s that make me?” Adilene asked.
Max curled his lower lip in thought. “You’re Gollum.”
Had she not been concentrating so intently on writing notes, Adilene might have successfully swatted Max on the back of the head, but she missed.
“Are we done with the interruptions?” Gordy’s mom asked with little enthusiasm. “Let’s begin.”
For the first assignment, Gordy’s mom had him Decipher the contents of seven different vials while blindfolded. Adilene and Max stood on either side, ready to pass the containers under his nose, and Gordy’s mom pulled out a stopwatch.
Piece of cake, Gordy thought. He didn’t know how fast he was supposed to complete the task, but it didn’t matter. Gordy was a Cipher. One of the best at detecting any Elixirist ingredient in the vicinity. With the camera watching his every move, Gordy’s nostrils expanded as he took in a whiff, and he instantly smelled the residue of at least a dozen ingredients. The average person would never be able to smell such things, but Gordy wasn’t exactly average.
Adilene clapped each time Gordy successfully named off the potion and its key ingredients. Gordy’s mom made several notations on the clipboard, occasionally glancing up at the camera on the ceiling.
Next, Gordy mixed three potions using only the ingredients provided: a Norwegian Vintreet Trap, a Torpor Tonic, and a container of Boiler’s Balm. All standard-issue potions used by Elixirists. Gordy had brewed each of them at least a thousand times and could’ve mixed them blindfolded as well.
Ten minutes later, three perfectly prepared potions simmered in test tubes. Gordy’s mom held up each of the vials to examine their color in the light and then made more markings on her clipboard.
“How much longer do we have?” Max asked, yawning from the other side of the prep table. “Other than sticking bottles under your nose, what good are lab partners anyway?”
Gordy’s mom sighed. “When potions become more advanced, an Elixirist’s lab partner will have more to do.”
“Don’t listen to him, Mrs. Stitser,” Adilene said. “This is a lot of fun.”
Gordy’s mom smiled warmly at Adilene and then nodded at Gordy. “We’ll end here for the afternoon because I have more—” She stopped midsentence as a piercing alarm rang out overhead.
Gordy clamped his hands over his ears, as did Max and Adilene, and a red light flashed from a bulb just above the chalkboard. Gordy’s mom, however, looked sharply at the door as it opened and a man with short black hair appeared.
“Hoffman, what’s going on?” she asked.
Hoffman handed Gordy’s mom an electronic tablet. “This is the live security feed. There doesn’t appear to be anything on it.” He fumbled his words breathlessly. “But the alarm means there might have been a breach.”
“A breach?” Max shouted above the roaring alarm. “What’s that?”
Hoffman blinked at Max, as though surprised to see the three children gathered behind Mrs. Stitser. He closed his mouth and swallowed, his eyes widening with hesitation. “Um, uh . . . not sure . . .”
“Hoffman!” Wanda bellowed, tapping a code onto the tablet’s screen and bringing up the video feed. “Stay focused, and tell me what area was br
eached.”
The volume of Mrs. Stitser’s voice snapped Hoffman back to attention, and he gaped at her in shock. “Level Zero,” he wheezed. “There was an unauthorized entry into the Vessel room.”
“Stay by the elevator. Do you understand me?” Gordy’s mom instructed, glaring sternly at Gordy and Adilene, her eyes lingering on Max longer than the others. “You shouldn’t even be on Level Zero, but I don’t dare leave you behind.”
“I could call my mom,” Adilene suggested, her voice squeaking. “She could pick us up and take us home.”
The alarm continued to echo through the building, loud and unyielding. Gordy felt a twinge of fear, but that also might have been adrenaline.
“It’ll be fine,” Gordy’s mom said, patting Adilene’s shoulder. “I’ve already spoken to the guard on duty, and nothing seems out of the ordinary. And I’ve seen the security footage. It’s possible it was just a false alarm.”
“But it’s the Vessel room, Mom!” Gordy blurted.
The Vessel was a silver chalice containing a centuries-old potion that governed B.R.E.W.’s involvement all over the globe. It was the most important potion in existence, and the protective wards surrounding the Vessel room were supposed to be the strongest ever made. No one without permission should have been able to enter the elevator, let alone breach the hallway. If someone took the Vessel, everything would change. Three hundred years of advancement would topple, and the world’s most hardened criminals, Scourges that his mom had banished, would suddenly be free. They would exact revenge upon Gordy’s family; that much would be for certain.
“The Vessel was moved several weeks ago,” his mom said. “If there was indeed an actual breach, it was a failed attempt from the start.”
“Moved?” Gordy asked. “Where?”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “The new Chamber President determined that B.R.E.W. Headquarters was no longer the safest location for the Vessel. I suppose you and I are somewhat to blame for that belief.”
The Transparency Tonic Page 3