Brimstone

by Skinner, Alan

  ‘There are,’ admitted the trader. He waved in the direction of the market. ‘Most are honest, but there are millers there who add sand or sawdust to their flour, bakers who short-weight their loaves and farmers who’ll pack the bottom of their barrels with spoiled fruit. But at least they leave you with something your life needs. An alchemist who promises gold from base metal, however, or claims to know the secret of long life, or even how to read the stars so you can change your future, what does he leave people?’

  ‘I only ever wanted to be a healer,’ said Jenny quietly. ‘I don’t know anything about all those other things.’

  ‘That’s part of the reason why Richard chose you, Jenny Swift,’ said the trader.

  Jenny was startled. ‘How do you know my name?’ she asked.

  ‘Traders hear a lot of gossip. I’m Robert, by the way. Now, I must pack my things. It’s been a very quiet day. Almost as much to pack as there was to unpack.’

  ‘Will you be here next market day?’

  ‘No, I go from market to market, wherever the trading takes me.’

  ‘I’m glad to have met you, Robert’ said Jenny. ‘Good luck.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Robert. He took a piece of cloth and wrapped it around the astrolabe, then handed it to Jenny.

  ‘Here, take this. A reminder.’

  ‘Robert, thank you, but I couldn’t. I have very little money. I couldn’t possibly afford this,’ said Jenny.

  ‘Keep it – my good luck gift to you,’ said the trader. ‘Besides, you were meant to have it. Antrobus will show you how to use it.’

  Jenny slipped the astrolabe into her tunic. ‘Thank you, Robert. Thank you,’ she said and waved goodbye to the trader.

  ‘Good luck to you, Jenny Swift,’ called Robert.

  Jenny walked back towards where she had left Emily. She wondered what Robert had meant when he said she was meant to have the astrolabe. She was about to turn back to ask when she felt a hand clamp on to her arm. Fingers dug into her flesh. She twisted to look at her attacker but he kept behind her and pushed her towards the mouth of a small alley.

  ‘Don’t cause a fuss, girl, and I won’t hurt ya.’ The voice was harsh and rough.

  In the shadow of the alley, she felt the man’s hand slip inside her tunic. For a moment, Jenny froze in fear. Then she grabbed at his arm, scratching his hand as she tried to get free.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ she yelled.

  The man pulled his hand away and clamped it over Jenny’s mouth. He laughed meanly. ‘Don’t fool yerself, girl. I’m not interested in what’s under yer shift. Just give me what you stashed in yer tunic.’

  Jenny bit the calloused flesh of his palm. ‘Ow!’ he said, his teeth clenched. He spun Jenny round and shoved her hard. Her feet slipped on the rough stone and she fell to the ground.

  The man stood over her. ‘Give it me, girl,’ he said roughly. ‘I won’t hurt ya if you hand it over nicely.’

  Jenny looked up at him. Slowly, she held out the parcel. The man grinned. ‘That’s better,’ he said, and reached down to take it.

  The toe of Jenny’s boot caught him in the thigh. He yelped in pain and stumbled backwards. Jenny tried to get up but the man moved too quickly. He slapped her across the face and her head hit the flagstones. His hand wrapped around her neck and he squeezed his fingers. She felt him grab on to the astrolabe with his other hand and she pulled it tightly to her. He squeezed her throat harder. His face was close to hers, the pale skin glistening like wet pastry. He smiled, a grimace of meanness and discoloured teeth. ‘You’ll wish ya hadn’t done that,’ he whispered. His breath was foul and Jenny felt small drops of spittle on her face. He leaned closer.

  His eyes opened wide in surprise and he grunted. A hand buried itself in his hair and Jenny saw him rise clear off the ground and land hard on his back. She heard his head crunch against the flagstones.

  Another man stood over him. The thief tried to get up, but the second man grabbed the front of his tunic, lifted him clear off his feet and threw him against the wall of the alley. Once again, Jenny heard the man’s head crunch against stone. Her attacker fell to his knees and then slumped sideways.

  Her rescuer dragged the man to his feet, took hold of his collar and trousers, and threw him out of the alley. The man sprawled on his face. Groaning, he staggered to his feet and glared at the man who had interrupted his thieving. Jenny saw his face pale and his eyes fill with fear. He stumbled, then turned and ran. Without looking back, he disappeared into the crowd.

  Her rescuer offered his hand to Jenny. ‘Hurt?’ he asked. His voice was brusque and Jenny shook her head. She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘You’re game. Most people just whimper and give over whatever they have.’

  ‘Maybe I would have, if I hadn’t mistaken what he wanted. I thought he ...’

  ‘I think if he’d wanted that he would have dragged you a bit further down the alley,’ said the man. ‘Whatever you were protecting, I hope it’s worth it. Usually, whimpering and giving in is smarter.’

  ‘It was a gift. I just got it,’ said Jenny.

  She looked at her rescuer. The man was about her father’s age, though taller than him and slightly heavier. Jenny saw hardness in his face but there was no meanness in his eyes.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said. He looked in the direction her attacker had gone. ‘I’ll teach Nate better manners later.’

  ‘You know him?’ asked Jenny.

  The man grinned. ‘He’s not a friend, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s a sneak thief, not worth chasing after, normally.’

  ‘But attacking me makes him worth chasing?’

  ‘It does,’ the man said, matter-of-factly.

  He didn’t give Jenny the chance to say more. He took her arm, gently but firmly, and escorted her out of the alley.

  ‘Jenny! There you are!’ Emily ran across the flagstones. She saw the man with Jenny and skidded to a stop.

  ‘Wha-!’ exclaimed Emily. ‘Rayker!’

  ‘Mistress Trickett,’ said Rayker, offering a slight bow of his head.

  ‘What’s going on?’ asked Emily.

  ‘Is that your name? Rayker?’ Jenny asked.

  ‘That’s what they call me,’ said Rayker.

  ‘Just Rayker?’ said Jenny.

  ‘Just Rayker, Mistress Swift,’ he said.

  ‘You know who I am?’ said Jenny. ‘Is there anyone in Vale who doesn’t know my name!’

  A touch of a smile came to Rayker’s face. ‘Probably not,’ he said.

  ‘Jenny, are you going to tell me what’s going on?’ Emily demanded.

  ‘I’ll leave you to tell all to Mistress Trickett,’ said Rayker. He nodded politely to Jenny and Emily and then he was gone.

  ‘Someone tried to rob me. Rayker chased him off,’ said Jenny. ‘Who is he?’

  ‘Rayker works for the Duke, Emeric. He hunts outlaws, or anyone Emeric tells him to. Sometimes, he needs a warrant from my father,’ said Emily. ‘I’ve met him once or twice. Not someone to cross.’

  ‘Emily, who is your father?’

  ‘Isaiah Trickett,’ said Emily. ‘Chief Magistrate of Vale.’

  *

  At precisely half past six that evening, there was a knock on the door of the room. Jenny opened it. A girl about her own age stood in the doorway.

  ‘There’s a man downstairs for you,’ said the girl curtly. ‘Name’s Pitch.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jenny.

  The girl turned to go, then stopped and gave Jenny a strange look.

  ‘What colour’s my shift?’ she asked abruptly.

  Jenny was taken aback. ‘Green,’ she replied. ‘Deep green.’

  The girl nodded dismissively. ‘I just wondered whether you saw things the same as the rest of us. Because of your eyes,’ she said. ‘There must be a reason they’re shaped like that.’

  ‘I expect so,’ said Jenny politely. ‘Perhaps one day we can s
wap? Well, one eye, anyway. You can spend a day with one of yours and one of mine and see what the difference is.’ She smiled sweetly. The girl stared blankly at her for a minute, then screwed up her face in disgust and hurried away.

  Jenny watched her go, then went back into her room. She picked up the astrolabe from her nightstand and put it into an old cloth bag, then grabbed her cloak.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to borrow one of my dresses?’ said Emily, frowning with disapproval.

  Jenny looked down at her rough clothes and rustic shoes. ‘I’m quite sure, thank you, Emily. This is me,’ she said.

  ‘We can work on that,’ Emily teased. Jenny stuck out her tongue at her room-mate and left, closing the door behind her. She heard giggling and whispers coming from the boarders’ sitting room and turned to look. The door was open and she could see the other boarders sitting on the couches, talking with great animation. The young girl who had come to the bedroom said something to her companions and they all laughed. Jenny had the feeling that they were talking about her. She knew they found her looks strange, but she didn’t know why they would mock them or judge her because of them.

  Jenny was stung by the laughter. Her throat constricted and tears threatened to fill her eyes. Hurt and anger warred inside her and for an instant she thought of confronting the girls. But she knew that wouldn’t do any good; if she showed any reaction they would just get added delight from their meanness. So, she turned and ran down the stairs. As she reached the next landing, a voice came from the front sitting room.

  ‘Swift!’ yelled Rumpkin. ‘That there front door gits locked ten o’clock sharp. There’ll be no one ta open it after that. That’s the rules an’ I can’t break ’em jus’ fer you.’

  ‘Thank you, Rumpkin,’ said Jenny, too softly for the landlady to hear clearly.

  ‘Eh? Whadya say, Swift?’ yelled Rumpkin.

  Jenny heard the creak of a chair as Rumpkin roused herself. As soon as she heard the landlady’s feet near the sitting room door, Jenny dashed down the remaining stairs.

  ‘Swift?’ she heard Rumpkin call. ‘Ten o’clock, mind! Not a minute later! D’ya hear me, Swift?’’

  Jenny heard Rumpkin grumbling to herself and smiled. She opened the front door and greeted Pitch. He stood patiently, a lantern in one hand.

  ‘Young Antrobus stopped by earlier an’ asked me to come and fetch you so you didn’t lose your way,’ said Pitch as he and Jenny walked through Vale. The night had come and Jenny was glad she was not making her way alone. Pitch grinned at her. ‘Escorting young women usually isn’t among my duties.’

  ‘I’m glad you did,’ said Jenny. ‘It’s nice to see you again, Pitch.’

  ‘Kind of you to say so, Jenny,’ said Pitch. ‘Very kind.’

  ‘Pitch, what do you know about a man called Rayker?’

  Pitch shrugged. ‘Rayker? Not much. When I was in the palace guard, me and some other men were sent to help him fetch a band of cut-throats out of a tavern on the docks. Can’t say we were much help. There was only four of them and Rayker pretty well took care of all four himself. He’s a tough man, but fair. Keeps to himself most of the time.’

  ‘You were one of the Duke’s guards?’

  ‘Yup. For this one, Emeric, and his father. They retired me on a pension a couple of years ago. The Duke is a good man. The pension ain’t much so he arranged this post for me as square warden. Why’re you askin’ about Rayker?’

  Jenny told him what happened at the market. Pitch stopped and looked at Jenny. ‘It’s rare these days for thieves to rob someone like that, in daylight. ’Course, there are still cutpurses and pickpockets, but draggin’ someone into an alley and knocking them down, that’s not usual. ’Specially someone who looks like you.’ Pitch grinned. ‘No offence, lass, but you don’t look exactly wealthy enough to be worth the risk.’

  Jenny grinned back. ‘Emily wanted to make me look more presentable tonight. She wanted me to wear one of her dresses and cloaks. Make me look more like someone worth knocking down.’

  ‘Why didn’t ya say yes?’ asked Pitch. ‘Though I like ya well enough as you are.’

  ‘It didn’t seem right. For the next seven years, Antrobus will be my master. He’s got to know who I am. Right now, these clothes are part of who I am.’

  Pitch looked at Jenny for a moment, then smiled at her. ‘Right you are, lass,’ he said, in a voice that made Jenny grateful for the choice of clothes she’d made that evening.

  They walked on. ‘Rayker’s not his real name, is it?’ asked Jenny.

  ‘He’s caught your interest, hasn’t he?’ said Pitch. ‘Well, it’s to be expected, him saving you and all. No, it started as a nickname, then just seemed to become his name. A rayker’s one of them what goes round gatherin’ people’s rubbish and takin’ it to the dump outside the walls. Seems someone once said he was the Duke’s rayker. I think they meant it as an insult, but it stuck. It suits him. Only ...’

  ‘Only what?’

  ‘People ain’t rubbish, Jenny. Even brigands and felons ain’t rubbish,’ Pitch said softly.

  They turned into Fenwick Square and walked to Antrobus’s front door. Jenny could see the dim glow of candles in the front room.

  ‘Here we are,’ said Pitch. ‘Right on time. Now, I’d offer to wait to take you back, but I dare say the young gentleman wants that privilege for himself. So, I’ll say goodnight to ya, Jenny.’

  ‘Goodnight, Pitch. Thank you,’ she said.

  Pitch bobbed his head politely and left. Jenny watched him walk away. She hadn’t noticed before, but Pitch walked with a slight limp. He reached a small house abutting the stables at the end of the square. No light came from the small window of his house. Pitch opened the door and went inside with nothing but darkness and silence to greet him.

  Jenny sighed, then lifted the knocker on Antrobus’s door and rapped twice.

  Chapter 6

  Secrets and Immortality

  ‘Alchemists keep secrets. They can’t help themselves. And Father is worse than most.’ John Antrobus winked at Jenny. ‘He’s supposed to pass on everything he knows to his apprentice, but you’ll have to drag every word out of him.’

  Richard glared at his son, then turned to Jenny.

  ‘Ignore him, Jenny. If he had listened half as well as he talked he would have heard far more than he supposes. It was disheartening to tell him so much and know he would remember so little.’

  Antrobus’s twinkling eyes belied his words. He looked fondly at his son, who sat back in his chair and laughed. Sitting between them, Jenny couldn’t help but smile to herself at the affection that passed between father and son. Her pleasure at their liking for one another was marred only by a twinge of jealousy as she thought of the laughter and closeness she had shared with her mother and father, and that was now denied to her.

  The dinner had been more pleasant than Jenny had expected. Annie had prepared the meal, then gone home, leaving the three of them to eat and talk. John Antrobus was charming and he kept up a constant stream of easy chatter. He didn’t talk down to the young apprentice or patronise her. He gave her the attention and courtesy he would have given to any grown woman.

  ‘But there is some truth in John’s words,’ said Antrobus as he put down his wine glass. ‘Secrets are a part of being an alchemist. We share little with our fellow alchemists and even less with those outside our profession. But I promise you, Jenny, that all my knowledge – little as it is – is yours.’

  ‘That’s quite a gift, Jenny. There isn’t an alchemist in the world, and many a prince or king, who wouldn’t envy you for it,’ said John. Jenny looked at her master’s son. For a split second his eyes held a look she couldn’t fathom, then the flames from the candles flickered in his hazel irises, and whatever she saw was gone.

  Sure she was mistaken, she joined in the banter. ‘Well, whatever he tells me, I’ll run and tell it to you, and then you’ll be sure you know everything.’

  ‘Thank you, Jenny,’ said
John, bowing his head. He leaned towards Jenny and whispered conspiratorially, ‘Make sure you do tell me all. Most especially, if he tells you he has found the golden key, or the secret of eternal life.’

  Antrobus glanced sharply at John, who didn’t seem to notice. And once again Jenny had a glimpse of something that sat uneasily between father and son. But she pushed aside the notion and addressed her master.

  ‘What makes alchemists so secretive?’ she asked.

  ‘Fear, mostly,’ he answered. ‘Fear of sharing their knowledge; fear of being misunderstood; fear of ridicule; fear of those who would control and pervert that knowledge. And it is also habit. We believe the great secret we seek is too valuable to flaunt.’

  Jenny frowned. ‘You mean how to turn base metal into gold?’

  Antrobus smiled. ‘It isn’t the gold itself that’s important to the true alchemist, Jenny. It’s knowing what makes it possible to take one thing and turn it into another.’

  ‘The philosopher’s stone, most call it,’ John added. ‘It’s the substance that binds all life, yet separates one form from another. That’s the prize, Jenny, and whoever discovers it has the secret of life itself.’ Jenny thought she detected a note of scepticism in his voice.

  ‘Some even believe that it would lead to eternal life,’ Antrobus said. ‘I do not think so, however. I believe all life is connected and that one of the things that connects them is death.’

  Jenny thought of her mother, who would die within a year – half that, most likely – and she felt a desire to believe that Antrobus was wrong. Yet she couldn’t help but agree with her master.

  Antrobus continued. ‘Immortality and infinite wealth; the mere thought of those, let alone the promise of them, moves people to do things they’d otherwise never dream of doing.’

  John twirled his glass slowly. He stared into the whirlpool of deep red wine as he spoke, deliberately and seriously. ‘There are rumours that you’re close to discovering the stone, if you’ve not already discovered it.’