by Mark G Heath
“ Hello Ilberd,” said Antigonia.
“ Good morning, Antigonia, been keeping the Spinning Sisters busy have we?” remarked Grimoult pointing his stick at the Simulacrum.
“ Come now Ilberd, remember, you see your true self stood before you.”
“ If you insist,” sniffed Grimoult.
The Simulacrum peered past the alchemist at the wheeling devilkin, who had fallen silent in the presence of their master.
“ You had best bring them in with you,” said Antigonia jabbing the cane towards the homunculi.
“ I don’t want a repeat of last time they were here,” added the Simulacrum.
“ Yes, your fellows weren’t much of a match for them were they?” laughed Grimoult recalling how the two sets of underlings had set about one another, his little men ripping the winged creatures apart with their powerful arms.
Antigonia led Grimoult into the drawing room, the homunculi obediently following behind as the door closed itself. The Simulacrum gesticulated to one of the chairs besides the fireplace. Grimoult gratefully hobbled over to it and sat down, his underlings positioning themselves about his feet, sitting cross-legged.
“ Are you in the middle of something?” asked Grimoult noting that several piles of books were placed besides Antigonia’s seat, many scattered across the wooden floor, the pages open.
“ Oh those? I am keeping an eye on what the Manfurians are doing. They don’t mess about do they?”
“ May I?” asked Grimoult.
“ By all means, here,” replied the Simulacrum passing Grimoult a book that was open on the table next to his chair. Grimoult took the book and adjusted his spectacles so that the mass of writing took on form and shape.
“ Who is this?” asked Grimoult.
“ Some fellow named Marsiett Derran, he is a Low Priest, so pretty low down the order of seniority.”
Grimoult looked at the left-hand page.
He stands watching the three acolytes as they continue to work. He concentrates on Acolyte Staven who is busy carefully binding twelve black silk strips around a similarly coloured candle. The candle is the length of an arm and as a thick as a wrist. He turns his attention to the Acolyte called Razeer who opens a casket and begins sifting through various bottles contained inside it. Razeer selects one and holds it up, regarding its dark red contents. He passes it to a waiting Acolyte, named Kaffden who walks away with the bottle. Derran turns away from the Acolytes and walks along the room. He stops and scratches at the side of his head. He then continues walking until he reaches a set of steps. He begins to climb the steps.
“ I wonder what they are doing?” remarked Grimoult.
“ Setting up some elaborate preparations, is what I read. They are all at it,” replied Antigonia waving a hand in the direction of the other books scattered about him.
Antigonia coughed and held out his hand.
“ Book please.”
Grimoult continued to read, watching as new words formed on the page before him as he followed Derran’s journey up the steps and into the main hall of the church.
“ He is praying now,” commented Grimoult, more to himself than Antigonia.
“ Ilberd!” snapped the Simulacrum.
“ Yes, what?” jolted the alchemist.
“ The book.”
Grimoult gave a tetchy look and passed the book back to Antigonia. He glanced at it then set it back down on the table.
“ Where’s mine?” asked Grimoult.
“ Your book? Oh in another room where I keep the thickest tomes. Been harshly treated recently haven’t you Ilberd? First that savage Tsangarides chops off a finger and then only this morning Redway tries to throttle you. Who knew being an alchemist was so dangerous hmm?”
“ It has not been pleasant,” replied Grimoult. The alchemist’s eyes alighted on a book next to Thorel’s feet. It was the only book that was closed.
“ Have you finished that one?” asked the alchemist, pointing to the book.
“ Sorry?”
“ The book, by your feet, it is closed.”
Antigonia stooped and gathered the book and glanced at the cover.
“ No, not finished, but there is something untoward about it,” admitted the Simulacrum.
“ Untoward?”
“ Yes, here.” The Simulacrum passed the book to the alchemist. Grimoult took it and looked at the cover.
“Cyon Lancaster,” he said as he read the embossed silver lettering on the front cover. Thorel nodded.
“ Well, this will just be page after page of him frolicking with women, won’t it? I’m not interested in that.” He made to hand the book back, but Thorel held up a hand.
“ Read it.”
Grimoult shrugged and flicked through the pages until he found the most recent and began to read.
He turns from the window and starts to speak to .
“ Are you hungry yet?” he asks.
“Really, you have not eaten all day,” he says
“I admire your application, but you will faint if you do not have something. Here, try this.” He says. He walks to a table and picks up a plum from a platter of various fruits and holds it out to .
“Well, if you insist,” he says.
“ What’s this?” asked Grimoult frowning, “ It is missing parts out.”
“ Precisely,” replied Thorel.
“ What can it mean? Where is Lancaster now?” asked Grimoult, flicking back through the pages until he found the answer.
“ He is in the Last One Inn,” he declared.
“ Yes and this happens each and every time he enters a room on the first floor. The one in the corner.”
“ So the book omits to details the speech and actions of whoever it is he is talking to?”
“ It does. Any interaction he has is masked.”
“ Haven’t you sent your devilkin to find out who it is who is in there?”
“ Of course I have and they cannot get near. As soon as they close on that part of the inn, they faint.”
“ They faint?” repeated Grimoult.
“ Yes and they only come round when removed from the environs of that room at the inn.”
“ That is quite astonishing. I wonder who it is?”
“ Or rather what?” mused Thorel.
“ Haven’t you made enquiry of Benjamin Dromgoole, he must surely know who is staying in his tavern?”
“ The Devilkin did and he just said that Master Lancaster occupied the room, but I know that he has the adjoining chamber.”
“ The landlord is keeping it secret from you?”
“ More likely he does not know. Dromgoole never lets that room. It is haunted by some spirit by all accounts. Certainly I have read the books of travellers who have stayed there and they have remarked on strange noises that have come from the corner room. I have also seen in Dromgoole’s book that he maintains it is frequented by this troublesome spirit and has been all through the many generations of his family that have run the pub. He claims nobody can stay in it such is the behaviour of the spirit. If he has someone in there, he would have spoken of it and I would have read it. Dromgoole does not know but Lancaster does. He never makes mention of anything that would give me the slightest clue however and never talks about the room to anybody else.”
“ Fascinating. What are you going to do?”
“ Question Master Lancaster more closely. He has been making certain enquiries that will bring him to my door soon enough.”
“ Well, I look forward to finding out the answer, that has never happened before, has it?”
“No, no it hasn’t.”
Grimoult handed the book back to the Simulacrum.
“So,” began Antigonia,” what brings you here?”
“ Well, you will already know, since you must have read my book.”
“ I read everyone’s books. The activities in this village never cease to amaze and entertain me.”
“You create most of that entertainment with
the agreements you make.”
“But of course, how else am I to amuse myself, trapped in this village and most of the time this house, elegant as it is? I have to do something in order to entertain myself. I am after all the player of games am I not?”
“ So why ask me then, you know what I want?”
“ Call me old-fashioned Ilberd. I like to hear it in your own voice.”
“ Say it out loud Antigonia, then you will hear it in my voice,” said Grimoult.
“ Very amusing,” smiled Antigonia, “ come, tell me.”
“ I need white blood,” said the alchemist.
“ Such demand.”
“ Why, who else has been asking for it?”
“ Now, now Ilberd, you know I am not going to tell you that. That really would spoil my enjoyment.”
“ Somebody this day?”
The Simulacrum just sat smiling at Grimoult.
“ Miss Kathryn hasn’t supplied any to you,” said Antigonia.
“ No, she hasn’t, why, was she supposed to? You should know, you read her book.” Grimoult was unsure whether the Simulacrum was asking him or stating it as a fact.
“I can’t read all the books at the same time, despite my brilliance. I have to prioritise. Last time I looked at Miss Dromgoole she was bedding the white blood.”
The Simulacrum looked distracted.
“ I thought she might see fit to sell some to you, after all, she will be keen to profit on her work.”
“ Well she hasn’t,” confirmed Grimoult.
“ What do you plan to do with it, that’s if I have some and that’s if I give it to you?”
“ Oh, you will have some, you are too keen not to let something precious pass you by, Antigonia.”
“ Such flattery.”
“ Although you already know, I require it for my work.”
“ Experiments?”
“ No, there is no such experimentation on this occasion.”
“ I do enjoy reading when you are pottering about amidst your stills and alembics, those creatures fetching and carrying for you, it is quite the little industry isn’t it?”
“ If you say so.”
“ And a profitable one.”
“ Rare skills such as mine come with a price attached, yes of course.”
“ A high price is what you mean. Tell me, what do you propose to do with all that money?”
“ You don’t know already?”
“ Actually I don’t, you never speak about it to anybody and the books won’t tell me yours or anybody else’s thoughts, so that is one of the few mysteries I have yet to unravel.”
Grimoult paused and reflected on this admission. He stared at his double.
“ I have a proposition for you.”
“ You have a proposition for me?” asked Antigonia placing his hand on his chest, the jewels on his fingers flashing in the firelight.
“ Yes. You will give me two bottles of white blood and I will tell you what I intend to do with my fortune.”
Antigonia remained quiet watching Grimoult. The fire popped and crackled.
“ I am intrigued as to what an elderly man would do with such an amassed amount of coin and other items of wealth but my interest does not stretch to two bottles of the white blood. Not even one, actually. Besides, I put a price on what I offer, not you,” said Antigonia irritably.
“ I don’t believe you. You cannot stand to not know something.”
“ I cannot stand to give away precious materials in poor bargains.”
“ It is not a poor bargain.”
“ I must decline it.”
“ Very well,” said Grimoult, “ I require two bottles of white blood. What do you want in exchange for them?”
“ Ah, now the alchemist adopts my way. Good.”
“ As if I ever had a choice,” said Grimoult quietly.
“ Very well, for one bottle, you will bring me the soul of Ansell Redway.”
“Redway?”
“ Yes, the blacksmith. That will solve all your problems won't it? With one bottle you can give it to Alyssia Thorne. With one bottle, she can cultivate those Lucerne Berries, which you need. You can then create your Elixir of Calling and save yourself a visit from Arch Priest Novac. He’s a nasty fellow you know, he has been doing some unsavoury things since he arrived in the village. Your loss of your finger was mild, believe me. His treatment of Robert Wheelams was most savage, albeit inventive. Do you want to read, I have the book somewhere, I am surprised he survived, but then he is made of particularly sturdy stuff isn’t he?”
The Simulacrum looked about seeking the volume dealing with Wheelams.
“ No, no. I have no interest in Novac’s brutality. Of course I wish to avoid a further visit from him but Ansell is my friend.”
“ Who tried to strangle you?"
“ He was upset.”
“ I think you would prefer to avoid an upset Arch Priest Novac.”
“ If I do bring you his soul, you could let him retain it, knowing that it is yours in due course,” suggested Grimoult.
“ Defer taking it?”
“ Yes, you have done that before.”
“ Indeed I have, but no, do you think it is easy to maintain all this?” asked Antigonia waving an arm about him.
“ No, it is far from easy and with winter coming, the likelihood of new souls coming to Aftlain is rather too low for my liking. I can take from the village of course, but I don’t want to take too many, it is self-defeating. That said, Redway will provide quite the nourishing soul and moreover, I can poke a finger in the eye of the Foul Lord by consuming the smith. I need him now,” said the Simulacrum.
“ You know I cannot agree to such a proposal.”
“ Of course you can, you’ve never hesitated to do so previously when you have needed to make an arrangement with me.”
“ Those instances were different,” protested Grimoult.
“ Really? I thought you were good friends with Alstace Veraint. You used to dine with him weekly, but it didn’t stop you trading his soul for, what was it?”
“ You know, what it was.”
“ Ah yes, the return of your virility. So vain. Though I must concede, you sacrificed a great friend for that gift and you have certainly made much use of it. Even if most of them aren’t willing to enter into congress with you. I must admit, I do enjoy reading about your clumsy seductions, they amuse me no end.”
“ I need Redway, I cannot bring you his soul,” confirmed Grimoult evading the taunt of the Simulacrum.
“ That’s a pity, looks like someone else will get the white blood then.”
“ Wait,” said Grimoult.
“ I knew you would change your mind,” grinned Antigonia.
“ No, you said for one bottle, what is the arrangement for two bottles?”
“ Are you sure you want to know, you won’t even countenance the arrangement for one?”
“ Just tell me,” pressed Grimoult.
“ For two bottles, I want the soul of Alyssia Thorne.”
“ Why Alyssia?”
“ The soul of a dryad will provide me with plenty of nourishment and I have longed to know what her soul will taste like.”
“ But if you take her soul, who will cultivate the fruit I need for the Elixir?”
“ Can’t you do it? Surely it is straightforward. Or what about, Alyssia’s confidante?”
“ Ellen Ryall?”
“ Yes, that’s the lady, she must have some knowledge, surely?”
“ I am not sure. Moreover, I have known Alyssia ever since I came to Aftlain and she has shown me great kindness,” said Grimoult. He fell silent, brow knitted as he wrestled with his conscience. The Simulacrum watched intently and neither spoke for several minutes.
“ Pleasant as it is to sit with you Ilberd, I must be about other matters. Perhaps you want time to reflect. Perhaps Redway will find you some from somewhere else, who knows and I am sure Arch Priest Novac is happy to sit and wait
whilst you decide what to do. A man of infinite patience, I would say,” remarked the Simulacrum sarcastically as he reached to pick up one of the open books.
“ No, no, I have made my decision,” answered the alchemist.
“ Excellent, I admire a decisive man. So, what is your answer?”
Grimoult stood on the doorstep of the large house as the door closed silently behind him. He looked out across the lawn, to the fountain, which was frozen, the water still and iced.
“ Ah at last, what took so long, forgot what you came for?” shrieked a devilkin. Grimoult ushered Forneus forward and the little man held up the mustard pot by way of warning.
“ He’s off to make yet more coin at someone else’s expense, I would say,” yelled another devilkin.
“ No wonder he sits alone each night when he gives people up so readily.”
“ The avaricious alchemist of Aftlain,” shrilled the devilkin.
“ Let’s go,” said Grimoult quietly to the homunculi. Once again they got in formation and took the weight of the alchemist as he sat.
“ Got so much coin he can't even walk.”
“ How much will you get for a new born, alchemist?”
“ He can’t remember, his mind has gone with all the tinctures he swallows.”
“ Home,” ordered Grimoult. He tried to shut out the catcalling devilkin as they flew about above his head, their shrieked insults filling the cold air. Grimoult fixed his eyes ahead as the homunculi approached the path exiting the Simulacrum’s domain and looked forward to the silence of his own home, away from the frequent reminders of his weaknesses.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tsangarides entered the study, leading Derran and Darmere who carried the case. Novac was sat at the desk, studying a book. A large Manfurian banner hung on the wall; behind him, the crescent staring down at the room. Tsangarides halted and waited as Novac continued reading, not acknowledging his presence. The Arch Priest turned a page and then looked up.