Eyes of the Alchemist

by Janet Woods

  “Be honest, Tiana. You find the contact pleasurable.”

  “You are full of conceit, like our mutual ancestor the Grand Alchemist.”

  “He’s made himself known to you?”

  “He’s shown me his spirit kingdom and Santo has gone to be his study.”

  “You are honored, and Santo is thrice honored. He wasn’t angered by the disturbance to his rest? The last time I called for his counsel he banned me from his presence on pain of dismemberment after I beat him at a game of enigma. In his anger he altered the path of the river and flooded the village.”

  Laughter trickled from her lips. “On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy having someone to talk with.” And so had she. Loneliness was never more apparent until one was totally deprived of company.

  “Then he would have told you of our destiny. Thus, you must now believe that I will be your lord and master.”

  Kavan used every opportunity to turn her to his way of thinking. “I believe only that paths are open to me. The one I choose to follow will be of my own free will.”

  “Even though the gods decree differently.”

  “In their wisdom the gods choose to commune through you – or so you would have me believe. When they convey anything of import directly to me then I might take notice of it.”

  That he was reflective of her words was made all too apparent by the frown furrowing his brow. He fell silent, but it was a comfortable silence. The wind swished like hangings of silk against silk as they sped through it. There was an occasional sigh, as if two lovers were parting forever.

  Beneath them a void of darkness was relieved by an occasional light. Above, a velvety dome of sky was frosted with a crust of stars. Assinti twinkled serenely in a corner of her vision, but Bane looked fiery, the surface heaving and blistering, as if someone had angered Beltane and he was trying to struggle from his sleep. She shivered.

  “You’ll come to no harm,” Kavan said. “I’m comfortable with night riding at my shoulder.”

  While she was more comfortable in daylight. Their parentage was responsible for that. “Did you ever meet your sire?” she asked.

  He gazed soberly at her. “Arcus is a god, he’s never shown me his face.”

  “I’ve seen my mother. Lynx came to me one night in the desert. She was bathed in ethereal light and told me of her great love for me. There was a storm afterwards, and my mentor, Sybilla, was killed.”

  “Beltane must have been angry. Lynx and Arcus are forbidden to tread on the other’s territory.”

  “Why, what have they done that they should be forbidden to meet?”

  “Their sin was to fall in love – their punishment, to chase each other across the skies until the end of time.”

  She gasped. “But they’re brother and sister.”

  “They didn’t know of their relationship at the time.” Seemingly tired of the subject he pointed towards a distant pinprick of light. See, there is my dreaming place.”

  “The top of a mountain seems an odd place to dream.”

  He began to shake with laughter and she grinned with the pleasure of hearing it. “What have I said to amuse you?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Which she did a few moment later, when Shazah entered through a large opening near the top of the mountain and glided amongst a labyrinth of hanging sheets of crystal. They left the animal to browse and walked through a long, twisting passage, the walls of which glowed with opaline fire, like the eyes of the Grand Alchemist. Finally, they reached a cavern large enough to accommodate the whole town of Cabrilan, with room to spare.

  Long rods of different colored crystal shafted straight lines up towards the mountain top and plunged downward as far as the eye could see until they were swallowed in darkness. Many faceted crystal sheets fanned from stalks growing from the floors or the walls of the cavern. They’d blossomed into fantastic shapes and were covered in delicate patterns.

  Soft tendrils of sound power touched against her ears and wound into her subconscious, drawing her thoughts to the surface. A surge of happiness brought a quiet giggle from her. “It tickles . . . it’s exquisite,” she said, and her voice was picked up by the surfaces. Tickles . . . exquisite . . . tickles . . . exquisite . . . tickl . . . exquis . . tic . . . ex . . .ex . . . until it died away. “Now I know why you laughed,” and she grinned at him with delight. Laugh . . . laugh . . . laug . . . lau . . . la . . .

  Kavan was smiling as took her hand and place against one of the vibrating shapes. The echo stopped, to be replaced by the steady beat of his heart when he brought her palm against his chest.

  “What do you dream of in this place, Lord?” she asked, and felt shy, for his eyes were upon her and full of warmth.

  “I dream of the day when the Truarc and Cabrilan worlds are one. I seek my wisdom here, for with the time of the joining will come great danger.” His eyes took on a faraway expression, his mouth curved in a faint smile. “The Truarc people must be got away from the edge towns or they will perish. All will perish unless I find the remaining stones. Fire, water and the eyes.”

  “I do not understand,” she said, and he folded her hand into his.

  “Come with me and I’ll show you.” They left the ground and floated upwards towards the top of the mountain. They emerged from the shaft into a night of stars. A glowing circular table on the plateau pulsated and hummed. Jewels were set around the rim. “These are the stones of power. To complete the circle I need four keystones. I have only two. The blue air-stone and the gold sun-stone.” He pointed to two vacant places. “Four are missing. Fire is red and shaped like an oval. Water is a green triangle. Then there are the eyes, a pair the color of mist and shot through with fire, ice and water. The eyes must be placed in the tomb of the alchemist, where they belong.”

  He didn’t see the start she gave, or the way her fingers strayed to the pendant her mother had given her. “Each time a stone comes into my possession I’m nearer to my goal. When they’re complete the pivot stone will harness the power and the world will be brought together as one. But time grows short, and so far there’s no sign of the missing stones.”

  “Who knows of this place?”

  “No other knows of its whereabouts.” His eyes came to hers, still reflective. She liked him like this, the arrogance and pride put aside. Being regarded as someone of equal intelligence was something she’d been unaccustomed to on Truarc, and she responded to it.

  Her hand closed around the pendant. “I’m honored by your trust, Lord Kavan.”

  His eyes hooded over, so all she could see was the glitter of purple through his dark lashes. “Trust doesn’t come into it. You will not remember any of this.”

  Wounded beyond measure she gazed dumbly up at him and let her hand fall.

  His palms gently cupped her face. “I cannot risk it, lady. You find it too easy to trust, and there are those who work against me.”

  “You think I’d join with those who work against so noble a cause? You think I’d betray you to your enemies?”

  “I’m unsure of you at this time. All it would take is one unguarded moment.”

  She was indignant. “I’m strong in both body and mind.”

  “But not devious. My enemies are cunning and until the rift is joined I can trust no-one.”

  She attempted to move away, but his hands held her firmly. “My intention is not to anger you, Tiana. Before this is over my mind shall be naked before yours.”

  “And when will that be, barbarian?”

  She gazed into the depth of his eyes and shivered at the sight of the controlled passion they displayed. He dipped his head to hers and whispered. “When you surrender yourself to me body and soul.”

  Caught unprepared, she was swept up in the contact. His lips tasted of the rare, desert honey, a delicacy found on Truarc and gathered from the pollen of the desert lilies. She and Sybilla had once discovered a honeycomb high on a rocky outcrop, and had removed a small portion. It was well known that to consume too m
uch would cause hallucinations, whilst a tiny portion produced a sense of wellbeing.

  Her tongue delicately traversed the firm contours of his mouth, seeking the irresistible and elusive taste. His lips parted a little and her tongue ventured inside. “Mmmm,” she whispered when he removed his hands from her face to draw her close. “You taste delicious.” He felt delicious too, his body a firm, warm column against the yielding softness of hers.

  His skin was like burnished leather. Under the surface his life power flowed from tautly exercised muscle to sinew. His veins carried the fiery tempest of his blood, his pulses stroked against her body, now sensitized beyond endurance by his closeness.

  His mouth had taken the initiative from hers. She opened to him as he sweetly plundered its depths. Her mind disintegrated into the oneness of the contact, as if her senses had melted into his. She thought she might be floating because the ground beneath her feet had disappeared. He’d lifted her, she realized, aware of his hands warm against her buttocks, of her legs spread either side of his. Pressed hard against her core . . .? Sweat slicked her body. Sweet charity, this was a blissful kind of torture. All that had been forbidden and denied her was now very evident – and Kavan was available to pleasure her as he’d promised!

  A novice will not allow lustful thoughts to govern her logic.

  All she’d wanted was a taste of the potent honey. The taste had proved too potent when combined with Kavan’s sensual maleness. Shakily, she tried to extricate herself from the trap he’d led her into. Her teeth nipped the end of his tongue and he hastily withdrew it. The grin he gave was infuriating in its awareness of her inner thoughts.

  “Put me down, please, Kavan.”

  His eyes glinted amaranth fire at her. “Had we loved, you would have lost nothing, but gained much in knowledge.”

  She blushed furiously and tried to turn her head away. He chuckled and mocked her. “Your modesty is becoming, lady. Unfortunately, you’re too versed in temple law to allow desire to consume creed at this moment. No one but yourself would have known the outcome.”

  “Except you.”

  He lowered her to the ground, but kept her in his arms. “I’m only a dream figure, a slave to your subconscious desires.”

  Her desires had seemed very conscious to her. She could feel them still, loitering like beggars in the secret ways of her body. She longed for Kavan’s touch to bring them shockingly to life. Yet, she could not indulge herself to the extent he suggested and took a step back. He jerked her back against his body and kissed her again, firmer this time, and with more possession. A thought came to her. Was this what her subconscious wanted, to be mastered?

  Not at this moment! She tore herself from his grasp and swiped a hand, hard across his face. “Get out of my way, savage, I’m leaving.”

  He stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he bowed and stood to one side. She pushed past him and headed towards the entrance to the dreaming place. With heart thumping she teetered on the edge and stared down into the beating, living heart of the mountain. Unsure of whether she could trust herself to float down without him, her knees began to give way. She gazed helplessly back at Kavan, seeking guidance.

  “Have you suddenly run out of courage, lady,” he mocked.

  Taking a deep breath she defiantly stepped into the void – and began to fall! She couldn’t find the breath to scream as everything rushed past her in a series of sickening, multicolored stripes. Below her, the bottom of the void was a black swirl of nothingness rushing up to meet her. She hit it at full speed. Her body jerked several times and she screamed out with the shock of such a rude awakening, “Banefire!”

  It took but seconds to register that her heart was beating a path out of her chest, that the night was over and the thick frost around her was covered in small footprints.

  “Atarta,” she called, feeling suddenly vulnerable and drawing Kavan’s cloak around her for the comfort it offered. There was no answer. As she rose to examine the footprints she remembered the small creatures in the alchemist’s imaginary world.

  But these were not imaginary footprints, and whoever had made them had stolen the bread and fruit she’d collected from the stallholder in the market. These were the same thieves who’d taken the herbs she’d put out to dry – the shadowy figures in the forest mist. She wouldn’t have minded sharing if they’d asked, but they were not going to get away with stealing it!

  She could always ask the wishing dish for food! She stared at it, her sense of rightness battling with temptation. The dish was a toy of the privileged, Kavan had used it to subdue her willpower. In a fit of temper she picked it up and threw it over the falls to splash into the lake. Colors spread across the water in a series of ripples. When the water calmed it resumed its usual silvery hue, with just a touch of rainbow color above the bowl’s resting place.

  Gathering up her sack and blanket she followed the footprints towards the forest. When she saw the dark interior she hesitated for a moment, then thought. Perhaps I can find shelter here.

  But there was no shelter, and neither was there sound, only a sense of listening that made her uneasy because she had the feeling she was being watched. The trees were high, the canopy of foliage dense enough to form a peculiar, greenish light. The pathway she trod was well worn, and wound through grasses and shrubs as high as her chest. Now and again she came across one of Atarta’s footprints in the soil.

  Her whistle brought no answer except a rustling noise behind to her left. “Who’s there? Show yourself.”

  Nothing moved, the wind sighed eerily above in the canopy. In the distance she heard a faint growl. “Atarta!” Picking up her skirts she began to run towards the noise, aware the rustling had increased. A quick glance over her shoulder showed the grasses moving. Whatever it was, there were several of them and they were all after her.

  Attack was the best form of defense, she’d heard. Still on the run she stooped to grab up a stout stick and turned straight towards them. A chorus of alarmed yelps filled her ears as she grabbed one of the creatures. Dragging it out to the path she took a good look at it. As she’d first thought, it was one of the alchemist’s helpers, a male. She gave him a shake. “Right, you thieving little creature, where’s my food?”

  Something stung her on the hip. She turned to find herself surrounded. Her heart sank at the sight of the bows and arrows, at the same time her knees began to give.

  “You can’t kill me, I’m Kavan’s woman,” she managed to say before her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth.

  The creatures watched her gravely through large, luminous eyes. Sight blurring slightly, so it seemed she was seeing everything through a film of liquid, she sank to her knees, then fell forward on to her stomach.

  One of the creatures came to gaze down at her. He listened to her heartbeat, then stared intently at her eyes and nodded in satisfaction. His voice was high-pitched. “We’re the watchers. We’re sorry to be the cause of your discomfort, lady, but we thought you would harm us. Your help is needed. Do not be alarmed by your incapacitation, the paralysis is temporary.”

  Thank Assinti for that, she thought as they hoisted her on to their collective shoulders and staggered off with her like an undignified caterpillar.

  Chapter Six

  Mood somber, Kavan paced the floor. Tiana was testing his patience to the limit. Nothing he did seemed to please her, in fact, she appeared to deliberately set out to provoke him. He should do as Pannis and his mother had suggested and take a Cabrilan maid to his bed. At least they had passion in their blood.

  Then he remembered the way Tiana’s mouth had moved to accommodate his, and he smiled. No matter how much she tried to control it, she was all passion. A little encouragement from him and she’d soon disregard the teachings of the temple guardians.

  “What sort of woman disdains such a rare gift as a wishing dish?” Rowena said, giving a disapproving shake of her head.

  Irritated, Kavan turned towards his mother. Sinc
e it was he who’d insisted on choosing Tiana and bringing her to Cabrilan he was now bound to leap to her defense. “She’s been taught to scorn luxury. On Truarc she worked amongst the sick and needy. She follows the teachings of the alchemist and tells me his spirit has already consulted with her.”

  He viewed his mother with a critical eye. The red gown didn’t suit her, and her elaborate silver headdress was so heavy it wrinkled her forehead and corded the sinews in her neck with the effort of holding it up. She looked haggard, as if she’d inhaled too much of the hallucinatory incense she was fond of burning.

  He tried to concentrate on what she was saying, for he needed to gauge her true feelings towards Tiana. Not that it would make any difference to the outcome, but if his mother disliked Tiana she’d make a bad enemy for his Truarc maid.

  “So she says. From what I hear the girl is a storyteller of note as well as a healer. She seeks to bring you round to her way of thinking with her wondrous tales.”

  “And what is her way of thinking?” he said, his silky voice inviting her confidence.

  Rowena didn’t need much encouragement. Her eyes glittered as she lapsed into the indiscretion born of familiarity. “The maid is arrogant. Her intention is to weaken your power by bringing scorn and insult down on your head.”

  Her words saddened him. Rowena spoke only of her own desires, for she had always sought to dominate him. “And then?”

  “She’ll seize power for herself. Or worse, will place the brat she spawns on the seat of power. She’ll use his ears and tongue to govern through him.”

  As Rowena had attempted to do to him in his youth until the spirit of the alchemist had seen fit to secretly counsel him when he slept. He sighed. “There is no god-child as yet.”

  Her eyes slid sideways in a speculative glance. Their cupidity made him shudder. “I’m your mother. Don’t think rumors of your virility have escaped my ears. It will not be long before the man in you demands what she has to offer. Her purity will be an added incentive, for no man can resist the urge to conquer innocence.”