"But if someone carried on his work—his scientific work—would that person have been you?"
"I don't know, sir. I would’ve taken the opportunity if it were offered. But I am only an apprentice. I still had—have—a lot to learn."
The earl slipped into a silent moment of contemplation. With hands folded at his back, he paced away from Aaron, but then spun around and asked, "What were your qualifications that Elsanar selected you over all others as his apprentice, I wonder? By your own admission, you are not a practitioner of magic. You hail from a small fishing town, where opportunities for exposure to the higher sciences must have been few and far between. Hardly the background I might expect for one apprenticed to Master Elsanar. For how many years did you serve him?"
"Four years, sir."
"And you were how old when you started?"
"Eleven, sir. I'm fifteen now." As if the earl was incapable of doing simple math.
"Why did he select you? Norwynne was not a small city. There must have been any number of other potential candidates. Assuming you were still living in Taloo at the time, in what way did you catch his attention?"
"A lot of it had to do with my father, sir. He was a fisherman by trade, but he loved to tinker and repair things. He often serviced and repaired the town mill. Also, he built the smith an automated bellows for his forge and he was always repairing wagon springs and axles. I suppose I inherited his passion for these things. But he was concerned only with the mechanical. My interests were along the lines of alchemy, mathematics, and energy transference theory. The last caught Master Elsanar's attention more than anything else. I wrote a paper, The Principles of Alchemical Energy Transfer, which might have languished in a drawer if not for a King's Patroller who used to come through town every once in a while. He and I spoke often. I think he was just humoring me at first. But when I told him about the paper I'd written, he offered to take it here to Brighton for inclusion in the Aidan Library. It made its way to Master Elsanar from there. Once he'd read it, he had me summoned to Norwynne and, after a brief interview process, offered me the apprenticeship. I was really just lucky, sir, that the paper found its way to him and that he actually read it. I might still be in Taloo otherwise."
"An interesting story," Phillip said. "You give too much credit to luck, though. Luck does not exist. There is only fate on one hand and, on the other, the determination and courage to seize one's destiny and to forge it into something of our own making. You are wondering why I am probing so, aren't you?"
"No, sir." Aaron's response—too immediate—betrayed him.
Phillip's lips curled into a full smile that time, but it was a short-lived gesture.
"I ask you these questions because we are faced with a problem which I think your insight might help to resolve." Phillip turned to the audience. "Professor Othini, please come forward."
An older gentleman, dressed in the solemn, formal attire of the day, stepped forward and bowed. "At your service, Your Grace." He'd a mussed head of hair and a disheveled beard which had not been trimmed recently, if ever.
"This is Professor Othini," Phillip said. "He chairs my Department of Alchemy and Science and is my consultant on all things scientific. Of late, he has been involved in a very special project. But he and his researchers have hit upon a snag. I wonder if you, Aaron, can help get them over it."
Aaron opened his mouth to answer, but Professor Othini beat him to it.
"Your Grace, I mean no disrespect, but the boy has described himself as nothing more than an apprentice—an assistant, really, in my assessment—with no one to vouch for even those credentials. Already, the keenest minds in the city strive to resolve this matter. I do not see—"
"Aaron," Phillip said, "what did Elsanar have you working on? Tell us in layman's terms, please."
Aaron stood. "Mostly, sir, I did the usual things one might expect of an apprentice: cleaning vials, beakers, and tubules, preparing solutions, and tidying the lab."
"You see, sir," Professor Othini said. "Perhaps it best we leave the—"
"What else?" the earl asked.
"Well, sir, I also assisted in research, documented procedures and results, and performed field experiments."
"What did these experiments entail? Detail them for us."
Elsanar had indulged in many aspects of magic, science, and alchemy, with research leading into a broad spectrum of experimentation. Aaron considered the question, narrowing the many experiments down to a single choice. "One time, we tethered a balloon and sent it into the air at different elevations in order to measure atmospheric pressure and temperature."
"To what purpose was this experiment performed?" Phillip asked.
"It was mostly a data-gathering experiment, sir, with no immediate practical application."
"What else then?" the earl asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.
Aaron realized his selection had not been the best. He chose another, one which might carry more weight.
"Another time, we set up a bosur's apparatus in order to measure alchemical mass transference."
Professor Othini nodded. "I am familiar with the device." But then he turned his nose up. "Its use is a trivial thing."
"Yes," Aaron said, "but we modified it so any material passed through the apparatus had its mass-to-volume ratio normalized to three molar units. Usually, one can modify a substance's mass through pressure or temperature modification, but we accomplished it by altering the alchemical properties of the material. Transmogrification, essentially."
"Is this possible?" Lord Phillip asked the professor.
Professor Othini narrowed his brow. To Aaron, he asked, "How did you accomplish the initial measurement?"
"Energy resonance. Then, a Veridian calculation mechanism to determine the inherent energy concentration."
Professor Othini curled his lower lip. "I suppose, in theory, it might work."
"It did work," Aaron said. "We normalized the alchemical state and—"
Anything else Aaron was about to say was cut off by the earl stepping between them.
"You said you wrote a paper," Lord Phillip said. "Why was it of interest to Master Elsanar? Did its subject have something to do with his own work?"
"Yes, sir. Master Elsanar was attempting to extend the Principle of Confluence, which states that when two identical energy sources come together they combine to form a single, more powerful energy source. My paper formed the basis for the next stage in his research."
"Which was?"
"To show that two dissimilar energy sources, instead of canceling each other out, could instead combine into a single, more powerful form of energy. The practical applications of this would be—"
"Enormous," Lord Phillip said.
"Yes, sir."
"Were field experiments performed? Were they successful?"
"Initial lab experimentation yielded promising results. Though we planned field experiments, we never had the opportunity to carry them out. Except..."
"Yes?"
Aaron took a deep breath. "Master Elsanar's theory was confirmed in the field when Shanna combined the Four Elements into the Fifth." He paused, allowing his listeners a few moments to absorb that information. "Four disparate energy sources joined together. Instead of cancelling each other out, they formed a single, more powerful form of energy: the Fifth Element."
The earl asked no more questions, but instead turned to his closest advisors, who had gathered together out of habit. Aaron saw the earl's gaze go to each of them. Something unspoken passed between them, for, each time, the earl's gaze was met with a single nod. Even Othini, whom Lord Phillip looked at last, nodded in turn, though it seemed with some reluctance.
"I am willing to at least hear his initial assessment," the professor said.
The earl's attention returned to Aaron.
"May I ask you something personal?" Lord Phillip asked.
Aaron nodded.
"Was it difficult confronting her?"
There
was no need for the earl to identify of whom he spoke.
"More than you will ever know...sir."
Phillip nodded. He took in a sharp breath and let it out. "My father was always considered an excellent judge of character. I like to think I inherited that quality from him. I see in you someone who might one day achieve true greatness, Aaron. If not for your intellect, then for your moral character."
Aaron didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all.
"As my mother used to say, sometimes we find opportunities in the most unexpected of places. Aaron, I think I have found one such opportunity."
"I don't understand, Your Grace."
"You will, Aaron. You will." Then, with a hint of slyness in his voice, he said, "I have something I wish to show you. It is something my scientists are calling... The Incandescent Engine."
4. Ingrid's Chest
THE STENCH OF THE SUNKEN Slums assailed Ensel Rhe long before he entered it. An amalgam of unwashed bodies, burnt cooking, and filth-lined streets and alleys, the odor nevertheless brought with it a comforting familiarity as he hoisted himself over Old Wall and, concentrating his ka, landed without a sound on the wall's other side. All quarters of Brighton had once been at the same elevation. But multiple renovations and modernization efforts had elevated the more prosperous half of the city above the rivers and canals until it towered over the older, original boroughs by a precipitous margin. Old Brighton, Lower Brighton, the Sunken Slums, it mattered little what one called it, for Ensel Rhe knew from scanning the darkening streets and rundown tenements that it remained the same seedy den of old, full of derelicts, scalawags, and ruffians.
Right away, he felt eyes on him.
Whether from darkened alleys or half-open windows, Ensel Rhe did not care that they noticed his presence. He wanted them to see him, for it was safer for them if they did. But, just in case, he adjusted his coat so the bone hilt of his sword was exposed. A woman leaning out a window above noticed the gesture and spat in derision. Ensel Rhe felt her gaze following him all the way down the block until a pair of men at the other side of the street picked up where she left off. Like the woman, they only watched his progress. Only when he passed an alley, where a group of boys played a game of crutchit, did his presence elicit anything more. One of the older boys pretended to show no interest in him. But Ensel Rhe had seen the difference in the boy's posture, and knew the moment he was out of sight the boy meant to run off to warn others of the eslar's presence. Briefly, Ensel Rhe wondered if word would climb the ladder as far up as Thorvid Kelm, who lorded over this area of the Slums. Thorvid had a vicious reputation, but he'd never troubled him in the past. The eslar saw no reason for that to have changed.
By reflex, Ensel Rhe's hand settled on his sword's hilt. The khatesh was of foreign appearance to the people of the Four Fiefdoms. A bone hilt engraved with eslar glyphs, it topped two and a half feet of steel that was straight but for its curved tip. The sword was a typical eslar weapon, but special to him because it once had belonged to his father. Not many had seen the blade drawn and lived to tell the tale. But enough had for stories to spread. Riddled with half-truths, the tales were so twisted and inaccurate he was no longer portrayed as just an eslar, but as something else entirely. He knew what people called him: demon, dark faerie, soul-stealer, murderer. Ensel Rhe did nothing to quell such rumor-mongering. In his mind, the stories were not far from reality. Their greatest benefit lay in frightening people enough to stay out of his business.
He went down the next alley he came across. Lanes he'd not traversed in years returned to familiarity, so he was not surprised at all when he also remembered some faces. Whether pimps or prostitutes, beggars or thieves, hucksters or performers, those working the streets were a non-transitory, territorial lot. Trespassers and sometimes even those seeking passage through such areas were often made to pay a toll. Those who refused were sometimes found dead in an alley or floating down one of the rivers or canals. The city guard's presence in the Slums was few and far between. Bekjris was right about one thing: street law ruled here.
Ensel Rhe's passing continued to attract notice, but no one bothered him. A trio of shifty-eyed men with collars pulled close flashed him hurried glances before looking away. Another, a beggar by the look of his rags and dirt-smudged face, looked about to launch into his well-practiced plea for succor, but thought better of it and said nothing. Children roamed the streets and alleys, too. Dirt-smudged and hungry, they formed the backbone of the network of pickpockets and hoodwinks in service to the local thieves' guild. Ensel Rhe tracked the urchins' presence about him, wary of any stray hands as he entered another alley and left the worst of their numbers behind. He'd not gone far when a woman accosted him.
"A weight has recently been lifted from you," she said. "But soon another will take its place."
Leaning within a smoky doorway, she had the look of the Southern Reaches about her. Dark hair, with only a slightly less dark, middle-aged complexion, she wore the flamboyant colors of a gypsy fortuneteller and held a smoking, rolled leaf between two fingers. Her comment intrigued him enough to stop.
"Come inside," she said, beckoning him with one hand. "I will tell you of what is to come."
"Come inside so your boys can knife me in the back?"
The woman looked aghast. "Ambush a slayer such as you? I would not tempt fate so."
She waved behind her. The shadows of two men revealed themselves before they promptly disappeared deeper into the establishment.
"For protection only," she said as she took a drag from her rollie. She looked closer at him. "I know who you are. I did not expect to see you again."
"If you know me, then you have me at a loss, for I do not know you."
"I am Dasinda." She took another pull from her smoke before blowing the air from her lungs in a fine cone of grayish white. "I will tell you your future. Come!" Without waiting to see if he agreed, she disappeared inside.
Ensel Rhe considered her offer. Not because he cared to hear about his future, but because the woman might provide some insight into the chest he'd stolen from Ingrid Kane. He decided to see what she might discern. Inside, he found her already seated at a square table. The room was cordoned off by dark curtains and lit by a few half-burned candles which flickered dimly through a thin haze of smoke. Beyond the curtains, Ensel Rhe heard muted conversation and the occasional clatter of cooking pots. A chair was offered to him.
"Sit," Dasinda said as she shuffled a deck of cards.
"I will stand."
"You do not trust me?" She stopped shuffling for a moment to glance up at him.
"I do not trust anyone."
She smiled, but said nothing else. Instead, she dealt the cards. One at a time, face down, until five were laid out before her. Their back sides were dark weavings of sigils and patterns which meant nothing to the eslar. Before she revealed even the first of them, Ensel Rhe placed the chest on the table.
"What can you tell me about this?" he asked.
Her hand, already extended to reveal the first card, retreated.
"It is a chest."
"Your powers of observation are astounding."
She ignored his quip and reached for it. She hesitated before actually touching it. "May I?"
Ensel Rhe nodded his assent.
She touched the chest's black metal surface with a single finger. Then her hand closed on it and she pulled it closer so it was directly in front of her. She touched both sides with open palms.
"It is locked," she said, "but not with a key as you or I know it."
She mumbled a few words. Not the words of sorcery, Ensel Rhe didn't think, but some other jumble of gypsy-speak. All along the chest's surface, arcane runes appeared, glowing azure in the room's smoky half-light.
"Whatever is inside...it changes." Dasinda waved a hand over the chest. "Becomes reversed."
"What do you mean 'reversed'?"
She shook her head. "I do not know. It is what comes to me. I've no
explanation beyond that."
The fortuneteller withdrew her hands. The sigils faded, then disappeared entirely.
"I can tell you no more. Nor can I open it. For that, you will need a mysteriarch."
"Not a locksmith?"
"No. No normal key can open this chest. It is protected by a Word, known only to the person who placed it there. But it might be discoverable by a mysteriarch."
"Where can I find such a person?"
"Here. In the Slums. A man named Persimmius."
"The pyromancer?" Ensel Rhe reached across the table to retrieve the chest. "I wish the box opened, not burned to cinders."
"A practitioner of lesser skill might very well do that. But not Persimmius. He is your man. You can find him in the old temple district, close to Shat Swamp. Look for the stars and sun symbol. He dwells in Yvonnia's old temple."
Ensel Rhe considered her recommendation. Finding no issue with it, he flipped a pair of silver keenars onto the table. "I thank you, Dasinda, and take my leave."
"Wait!" she said, half rising. She settled back down when she realized she still had his attention. "I must complete the reading. Once dealt, the cards must be read." She waved a hand over them. "Whether you stay to witness their turning does not matter. The portents they predict will happen regardless."
Figuring knowing was better than not, Ensel Rhe stayed.
Dasinda closed her eyes. Her hand found the first card and flipped it.
"The King," she said, her eyes still closed. "Regal and proud."
She revealed the next. "The Lurker. Eyes in the darkness. Watching, always watching."
The third. "The Three Candles. Family or, sometimes, community."
The next was flipped. "The Element of Fire. So close to the Three Candles..." She shook her head, displeased.
Her hand went to the fifth and last card, somehow finding it just like the others even though her eyes remained closed. Three taps, and then she flipped it. Her hand recoiled from the image there: a hand, black and desiccated. "The Hand of Death," she said, opening her eyes. She looked at the cards with disapproval. "This is not a good sequence. See here." Her finger indicated the first card. "The King. A leader of men. Always, justice and truth are at his side."
The Nullification Engine (The Alchemancer: Book Two) Page 8