The Nullification Engine (The Alchemancer: Book Two)

by Scott Marlowe

  "Why did you bring me here, really?"

  Tired of standing, Acharat pulled over a stool and sat. "Because I fear time grows short. The engine is building up to something. Something which will likely occur very soon. Do you dispute this?"

  Aaron shook his head no.

  "If you can decipher even some of Melkor's writings, then perhaps you can come to a resolution sooner rather than later. By helping the people of Brighton, you also help those of Xirklx. Perhaps you wish it were not so, but my people and the people of the surface have never—"

  "I don't think that at all, sir. I don't know your people, true, but I know you, at least a little. You helped me with the hounds and now you've shown me all of this. If I can repay you by solving the mystery of Cyrus Melkor's engine, then I will do my best."

  Acharat pressed his lips together and nodded. "I believe you, Aaron."

  "Though," Aaron said, as he glanced at the rows upon rows of books, "I'm not entirely sure where to start. The machine itself overwhelmed me enough. Now, with all of this information, most of which I can't even read..."

  "What is that saying you humans have? Take it one step at a time? That seems a good approach for any task which seems so overwhelming. Unfortunately, it seems I have only added to your burden. Though I wish it were otherwise, I cannot help carry this load, for my skills lie elsewhere."

  "No, that's all right. There is a lot to go through here, but, like you said, I'll take it one step at a time."

  Acharat stood and bowed. "Now, I must go. When you wish to leave, approach the bricks and they will open. They will close again when you are outside. You are sure you remember the opening sequence?"

  Aaron nodded.

  "Good."

  The skeva shaman departed back up the stairs.

  Aaron turned to the books. One step at a time, he thought. He took one of the books down and started to take the first one.

  12. Master No Longer

  SERENA CAUGHT HERSELF BEFORE SHE fell back to sleep. As much as she wanted to stay in bed, she knew she had other things to do right now. Namely, finding Persimmius and making amends. She refused to have the chasm between herself and her former master hanging over head any longer. It was time to reconcile with him.

  Rolling out from underneath the covers, she washed, then chose an inconspicuous pair of breeches, a drab tunic, and a brown, hooded robe. Even that much effort almost sent her straight back to bed. But a spell by the window, looking out over the palace grounds, and she was soon well enough to get back to business. Though her and Aaron's restrictions had been lifted, she still exercised caution as she stuck her head out into the hall to make sure someone like Chane wasn't loitering about. He'd likely send her right back to bed, something which she was not going to do. No one was in the hall, though, and she made her way outside easily enough. With the day cool and gray, and her not in any particular hurry, she decided to detour through the palace gardens, where other people walking the gravelly lanes nodded at her passing. Whispered conversation was kept to a minimum, for it had only been yesterday since they'd laid to rest their earl. Serena wondered how much more somber their moods would be if they knew they'd just lost another. With the garden's atmosphere beginning to weigh on her, Serena decided to leave. She realized she was only stalling, anyway.

  Outside the palace walls, she drew the hood of her robe over her head and walked as quickly as her dizziness allowed. After Emily had recognized her in the palace, Serena wasn't taking any chances. On a hunch, she headed toward Lower Brighton, observing along the way the workers crawling like ants over buildings as they repaired the damage done by the Chaos. Closer to Old Wall, she stopped a moment to concentrate. She was not surprised to learn her hunch was correct, as she detected her former master's presence in the Slums. Once she was through Old Gate, Serena remembered why she never liked coming here alone, though she felt confident enough in her abilities, even weakened, to make anyone who bothered her regret it. Nobody did, though. Despite the murky afternoon light, the wider streets bustled, and so she in her inconspicuous outfit garnered little attention. Only when the path she followed led her down less frequented avenues did she really worry. Even then, it wasn't people she was worried about, but Krosus and his pack. Though she did not detect their signature presently, she knew they had a nasty habit of emerging from nothingness, and so she eyed the mist obscuring alleys and even the way ahead with caution and a bit of fear. She had not forgotten the look the demon had given her. But nothing accosted her as she found herself entering the old temple district. Once, in a bygone era, people flocked here to congregate, offer sacrifice, and pray. But no longer. No one came here anymore unless they were a homeless beggar, for the structures were old and ill-kept. Some of the churches were in such disrepair it was difficult to tell what damage was new and what had already been there before the Chaos. She passed the worst of them, stopping when she stood before one which at least still had half its roof. Her heart sank to look at the place, for if this was Persimmius's new home, then the poor man had fallen far indeed.

  Circumventing a series of fallen columns, she walked down the portico to the temple's main entry, which was bereft of doors, and into the darkened space within. Past broken pews and what remained of the temple's altar, she found a single door. Taking a moment to run her fingers through her hair and smooth the nonexistent wrinkles from her robe, she raised her fist to knock. But just then the door opened and out stepped a man. He'd the look of a seaman about him, for he wore a frock coat and held a tricorn under one arm. He seemed as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

  "Oh, hello there, miss," he said.

  Serena stepped back to give him room enough to step away from the door. She curtsied out of habit. "Hello," she said back. A little rough around the edges, the man was otherwise handsome, with a chiseled chin and hawkish nose. A curved-bladed sword hung from his belt.

  The man took a moment to look about before he said, "Miss, are you alone? I ask because this area has not struck me as one of the city's safer neighborhoods, and certainly is no place for a young lady to be walking about unescorted."

  Serena smiled. She'd not expected to find such chivalry here in the Slums. "I am alone, sir. But I can take care of myself. I assure you, I am in no more danger than yourself, and certainly can handle myself just as well, if not better."

  The man raised a brow. "I will take you on your word, miss. Still, I'd not consider myself a gentleman were I to leave you here alone. Perhaps you will allow me to escort you once your business here is concluded? I will keep my distance and walk with you only until we have reached a safer area."

  While he spoke, the door behind him creaked on its hinges and swung shut. They both heard the click of a lock.

  The man frowned at the sound. "I had a hell of a time—excuse me, miss—a difficult time getting the old tinkerer inside to answer. I fear you may not gain entry at all. Perhaps if I knock hard enough he will—"

  "That won't be necessary, sir," Serena said. "I have a key." She raised her hand and, with a flick of her wrist, the door unlocked and swung back open. The hand gesture was not necessary, but Serena found theatrics never hurt.

  Stepping back, the seaman bowed. "Commander Jacob Madison, of the airship Griffin, at your service."

  "Lady Serena Walkerton. I am Persimmius's apprentice." That wasn't entirely true, but no need to go into details right now.

  "Ah, that explains much. You are no stranger to this place then. Too bad your master is too busy presently to accept my commission. Perhaps we shall do business another time. But, for now, I bid you farewell, Lady Serena." He bowed once more, replaced his tricorn on his head, and departed.

  Beyond the doorway into Persimmius's abode, all was dark and quiet. She took a deep breath, let it out, and stepped inside. Once more, an audible click sounded as the door closed shut behind her. A long hall ended in flickering light. At the end of the hall she came out into a room which felt both familiar and strange. This new laboratory was
arranged just like the old, but the closeness of the walls and the darkness set her on edge. Persimmius had always liked his laboratory bathed in sunlight, with windows open so the sounds of the city echoed throughout. This place looked and felt like a dungeon.

  "Hello," Serena said, calling out.

  No one answered.

  She walked farther inside, came around a table, and saw her former master seated on a stool with his back to her. His head hung and he'd a large book open before him. Just to the right of the book was a small chest alight with sigils.

  "Hello, Master Persimmius," Serena said.

  Too lost in his work, he didn't hear her. She said his name again, louder this time.

  Persimmius's head came up as he swiveled around. Serena was immediately aware of how different he looked. Thick, wavy hair, always trimmed neat, had gone wild. His beard, which she remembered as well-manicured and oiled to a point at his chin, was a haphazard mess. His eyes, which took her in with a glance, were not the same either. Usually opened wide over his sharp nose and accompanied by a half smile and a bout of charm and wit, they were half-closed now, a look of suspicion a poor substitute for the enthusiastic fervor Serena had so often seen in them. His clothing had taken a turn for the worse as well. No longer decked out in tailored suit and tie—Persimmius had always preached how looking one's best encouraged one to do their best work—he wore trousers patched at the knees and a threadbare shirt beneath a vest so faded its pattern was indiscernible. Persimmius was a changed man, and not for the better.

  "Who the hell are you?" he asked. He spat each word as if hurling barbs at an intruder, or an enemy.

  "It's me, Master. It's Serena Walkerton."

  His mouth, already opened to say something more, stayed open, his tongue clicking against his teeth as his gaze narrowed at her. Serena saw a little more than suspicion in the man's eyes now. She saw a hint of disbelief and, perhaps, anger.

  "Serena?" he asked, sounding as if he didn't know her.

  "Yes. You do remember me, don't you? I was your apprentice once upon a time."

  Persimmius heaved in a single breath and let it out. "I don't think you are, young lady. In fact, I've no idea at all who you are. I don't think I've ever seen you before."

  "But, Master, I—"

  "No, you are not my former apprentice, because if you were that Serena Walkerton, you'd know better than to show your face in my home. I think it best you leave, for I've work to get back to." He swiveled around, dismissing her.

  Serena had considered many responses from her former master. Anger was understandable. Irritation, assumed. Commiseration, probably not, but not entirely out of the realm of possibilities. But feigned ignorance of her identity? The wound he'd suffered because of her remained. Healed over, but still painful. If Serena pressed, she knew she risked opening it back up. But she didn't want to just leave.

  While she considered her next move, her gaze wandered about the room. At one corner was a small bed with an unkempt assortment of sheets and blankets strewn across it. In another, an iron woodstove with a crooked exhaust pipe stuck through the ceiling. Within, the fire burned dimly for lack of fuel. The room might have once been a private chamber for some priest. Now, it was a sorcerer's abode, a single chamber which served as bedroom, laboratory, and library, all in one. Serena's gaze returned to her former master, who mumbled to himself now. He'd fallen into a sad state of affairs. Worst of all, she was responsible. Maybe the chain of events leading them to this point in time couldn't be undone, but that didn't mean she couldn't make things better from here on out.

  Serena turned and left, the door lock clicking behind her as she went back outside. Down the street, she stopped at an overgrown field she'd passed on the way there and started to gather deadfall. With her cradled arms full, she returned to the old temple, where she overrode the lock once more, walked into Persimmius's chamber, and went straight to the stove. Persimmius still worked away at his table and showed no signs of noticing her second arrival as she neatly piled the wood. Though the stove's grate made a horrendous creak as she swung it open, the sorcerer neither looked her way nor said a thing. Not even the increasing light and warmth from the fire attracted his attention.

  Still, he had noticed all of it, for, without altering the focus of his attention, he said, "You've now broken into my home twice. Perhaps you are Serena after all, for you've both her gall as well as her dishonesty."

  Serena closed the grate and stood. "I didn't know about what happened after I was sent away. Nobody told me."

  "Nobody told you?" Persimmius swung around and hopped off his stool. "Nobody told you?"

  His sudden movement and the fact that he now stomped toward Serena caused her to take a step back. He didn't cut an imposing figure by most standards, but he was still big enough to give her a good thrashing if he so chose. He stopped just short of her.

  "Nobody told you how in a fit of manic depravity I tried to burn down the entire city? Nobody told you how I was arrested? How I was driven from my home, my neighborhood, even from Upper Brighton, so that I was forced to live in this shat-smelling hole in the wall? I cannot show my face anywhere. I cannot enter a tavern. I cannot shop at market. I cannot even walk down the street without someone spitting my way or throwing something at me. Did no one tell you about that? Surely someone did. I imagine you enjoyed hearing how your master was getting along after you'd dumped the whole sordid affair on top of him."

  "I never—I didn't know! I told you, nobody—"

  "The hell you didn't!" He was right in front of her, chest heaving. One hand came up, but he only pointed at the door. "Get out."

  "I came here to apologize. If I'd known—"

  "I said, get out!"

  He physically grabbed her, spinning her around and shoving her forward. He kept on, pushing her every time she tried to slow or stop herself. The jarring motion and the suddenness of it kept her from saying anything in response. In front of her, the door opened of its own volition and, once she was shoved through, slammed shut.

  She spun back around, ready to storm back inside and...do what? She didn't know. She'd come to apologize. But she couldn't do that if Persimmius refused to listen to her. She hardly blamed him. Years before, if she'd listened to him, the 'whole sordid affair' never would have happened. She'd done far worse than not listen. She'd gone behind his back, disobeying his express order not to use the Inferno unsupervised. Being sent away had seemed the worst possible punishment to her. Now, she realized it was nothing compared to what had happened to her former master. The man had been ruined and made into something lesser. Maybe he didn't want to see her, but Serena was determined not to abandon him again. She'd try once more. This time, she'd not enter unbidden. He'd not want to see her again so soon, though, so she'd wait. She'd wait all day and night, right here, if that's what it took. She was just looking for a place to sit and do her waiting when she felt someone watching her.

  She spun about, coming face-to-face with Ensel Rhe.

  "Oh, it's you," Serena said.

  The eslar mercenary, saying nothing as usual, stared at her with those otherworldly eyes of his. Still, seeing him instilled in her the frivolity which she most often demonstrated in his presence. She found the persona welcome and easy to slip into.

  "You're probably wondering why I'm here," she said. "I know I'm wondering why you're here, though I won't bother asking because I know you won't tell me. But I'm here because I was once Persimmius's apprentice."

  Nothing at first. But, then, Ensel Rhe said, "That would explain why he just threw you out."

  "Oh, you saw that? He didn't really throw me out. It was more of a shove. He's just in a bad mood. You know wizards. Grumpy and sour. It falls to the apprentices to bear the brunt of their hostility. It's just part of the job."

  "Is allowing visitors inside part of the job as well? I have business with your master."

  "What business, if I may ask? Never mind! I know you won't tell me. I'll find out, though, as soo
n as we get inside."

  Serena considered unlocking the door herself once again, but given the manner by which Persimmius had just shown her out, she thought knocking might prove the better tactic this time. Such courtesy was lost on Persimmius.

  "Go away!"

  The eslar took his turn. His fist rained down so hard it unsettled dust. Just when it seemed his effort would not gain them entry either, Serena decided intervention was needed to move things along. The lock clicked and the door creaked inward.

  "Guess you knocked something loose," Serena said.

  Ensel Rhe pushed the door open the remainder of the way and went inside. Serena followed. Persimmius spared her a single look of annoyance before his full attention went to the eslar.

  "Your box is ready to open. But I'll not conduct our business with her in the room." The wizard gestured with his chin at Serena. "She must leave."

  If Ensel Rhe sensed the tension between master and apprentice, he gave no indication. "Her presence is of value to me, and so she will stay."

  "It is?" Serena asked. Then, with more confidence, she said, "Of course it is."

  "Now," Ensel Rhe said, "let us proceed with our business. What did you discover?"

  Persimmius grumbled something under his breath while casting Serena a baleful look, but he brooked no further argument about her. "I've discovered nothing," he said, "for I've not opened it yet. I'll not have you accusing me of stealing. I open it now for the first time."

  Ensel Rhe went to stand next to the wizard. Serena took a position at his other side, curiosity about the chest winning out over caution. The chest was small. Across its surface were the burn markings of expunged magical sigils. Persimmius touched the lid with both hands and swung it open. Everyone leaned in to see what treasures might lie inside. Resting upon a bed of velvet lay a small cylinder of metal. About as long as a person's index finger, it was tapered at the middle and belled at each end. Grasping it between forefinger and thumb, Persimmius tried to lift it up. He grunted from the effort, having to wrap his entire hand around it and lift it that way before he got it outside of the container.