High up on the far wall were three deep-set windows. Enough light came through their grey glass for her to chase away the black, but not enough to dispel the heavy gloom. She knew it was only an hour or so until noon, so from the small amount of light coming through the windows, Jenny calculated that they faced west. It would require more light to have a look around the workshop and she soon discovered several cresset lamps around the walls. These were stone bowl-shaped protrusions that were actually part of the wall. Filled with oil and with a floating wick, they were the main source of light for the room. There were also candelabra on benches and tables. Several of these she lit, their tallow candles giving off a dull smoky glow, but she decided against trying to lower the large metal chandelier that hung over the main workbench.
The workshop was larger than she had imagined. Three large tables and a desk dominated the room; two of the tables were crowded with the implements of the alchemist’s craft: crucibles, retorts and metal bowls; beakers, flasks and funnels; earthenware pots and coiled tubes of glass; there were tongs, spoons and stirrers, and long-handled pincers for handling hot glass and metal.
The desk was obviously where Antrobus recorded his observations and studied his books. There were instruments similar to those in his sky room; a chart of the heavens was unrolled and pinned back by brass weights. An astrological manuscript lay open next to it, along with a sheet of paper covered in Antrobus’s notes.
Two large globes in wooden frames sat on the floor next to the desk. One showed the world, a round map of every part of the earth; the other depicted the heavens that sheltered each land. She looked at the second one closely and realised it was actually two globes; a glass outer globe marked with the stars, planets, constellations and signs of the zodiac; the inner globe a simplified map of the world. The outer globe could be rotated to show the changing position of the heavens. Jenny thought they were perhaps the most beautiful things she had ever seen. Spinning the map, she searched for Seres, the birthplace of her mother. To the east and then to the south she saw the Indies. Looking further east she was disappointed not to see it. Then she noticed, in small letters under Cathay, the word Seres. Seeing the name brought a sharp pang of longing and sorrow. She traced her finger back to Vale, and her sadness was joined by amazement that her father had travelled almost halfway around the world to meet the woman he was destined to love. And it struck her that her mother, who could have been only a few years older than Jenny was now, had left all she knew, including her own mother and father, never to see them again, for the sake of the love she had for Jenny’s father.
Her movements slowed by her thoughts, she wandered through the workshop. Three sets of shelves ran under the windows. The first contained books and parchments; how could anyone have so many books? thought Jenny. Filling the second set were glass jars and brown stoppered beakers of various sizes. Some contained powders; in others were liquids, mostly clear, though some were brown or yellow or even purple. The lower shelf contained larger jars and dishes in which were mounds of crystals of almost every colour imaginable, and a collection of rocks.
Curious, Jenny took one of the stoppered brown bottles from the shelf. The words Aqua Fortis were written on the label. She removed the stopper. Faint vapours came from the liquid and her nose crinkled at the irritation. On the table behind her was a metal spoon. Jenny poured some of the liquid into it.
As soon as the first drops hit the spoon, it spluttered and sizzled and gave off a pungent, yellow vapour. Jenny felt it hit the back of her throat and she gagged and coughed. She dropped the spoon and hurriedly placed the stopper in the bottle. Stepping back from the vapours, she watched the bubbling on the spoon subside. Gingerly, she picked it up. The liquid had pitted and corroded the bowl. She replaced the spoon on the table, hoping it hadn’t been one of Antrobus’s favourite eating spoons. For now, she decided, it would be safer just to look around.
When she looked at the third set of shelves, Jenny started back, more in surprise than in disgust. Floating in liquid were all manner of creatures – or their severed parts – that had once been alive: frogs, their legs splayed as if they were swimming upwards to escape; lizards with staring black eyes; a rabbit with its front sliced from neck to tail, showing all its organs; birds’ wings; and hearts, livers and lungs from who knows what animals.
In the far corner was a large square furnace, as tall as Jenny. Next to it was a stepladder. Jenny climbed the ladder and saw that the top of the furnace was an intricate arrangement of metal racks and supports. She couldn’t make head nor tail of the workings but she realised that the furnace must be able to generate a considerable amount of heat, enough to melt metal and boil large quantities of liquid quickly. A smaller, similar furnaces sat next to it. Behind the furnaces, she noticed a wooden panel had been inserted into the stone wall. A thick chain wound around a pulley hung beside the panel, then disappeared into a hole drilled into the stone above the panel. She climbed down from the ladder and tugged the chain. The wooden panel shuddered and creaked. Jenny pulled harder but it refused to budge. She was about to give up when she spied a solid bolt at the bottom of the panel, extending into the stone. She slid the bolt back, then tried the chain again. This time, the panel began to open, pivoting at the top and swinging out at the bottom. She kept pulling until the door had swung fully outward and she was bathed in sunshine.
Jenny smiled. Antrobus had found a clever and simple way to relieve the heat of the furnaces, or to let out noxious fumes, or simply to provide more room to work.
She stepped out on to the balcony. She was level with the highest parts of the palace, old or new, and to the north-west she could see the wealthier streets and squares of Vale. She scanned the city and thought she recognised the square where her master lived; if she was right, it would be no more than twenty minutes’ walk. Happier that she at least knew the direction she had to travel, if not the route, she went back inside and closed the swinging door, then slid the bolt back in place.
The third table was away from the other two, at the opposite end of the room. Behind it was a very big apothecary’s cabinet with more than sixty little drawers for the storage of ingredients. But it was what was lying on the table that caught Jenny’s eye: dried herbs and plants, tinctures and potions, lotions and salves, alongside scales and a mortar and pestle, showing signs of recent use. And next to them, almost a hand’s breadth thick, was a book. Across the leather cover was the title, The Preparation and Efficacious Use of Medicines and Remedies, and its author – Albinus Fraternitas. Eagerly, Jenny opened it. Inside were drawings of every healing herb and plant, with notes on how to find them, the most favourable time to harvest or gather them, the best way to prepare and administer each for use, some cautionary observations, and a few comments on real instances when they were used.
Surely this was the book that Antrobus hoped she’d pick. After all, he probably left it on the table just for that purpose.
Jenny paused, then put the book back. Without needing to be told, she knew Antrobus would be disappointed if she chose without looking at what else he had. Maybe there was a greater treasure on the shelves, and this had been left as a test. She walked to the shelf and, taking the books down one by one, began to read their titles. Like those in her master’s study, most were in Latin, though several were in the elegant Moorish script. As she read neither Latin nor Moor, she decided there was little value in choosing those.
She had perused about half the books when she pulled one from the shelf and immediately recognised the language of the book as her own. In a very careful and precise Gothic script was written The Book of Alchemy, with the name of the author, Albertus Magnus, underneath. She opened the cover and started. There on the title page was written,
Libellus de Alchimia (The Book of Alchemy)
by Albertus Magnus
Translated by John Antrobus
She scanned the book and realised that here was the introduction to alchemy that she lacked. It dealt with its practice
s, its arts, its breadth and its major principles. She was sure this was no coincidence. She glanced over at the The Preparation and Efficacious Use of Medicines and Remedies. That could wait. She was already a healer, although she still had much to learn, but she had a great deal more to learn if she was ever to be an alchemist. And her master’s son had provided the first step.
The creak of the workroom door startled her. She drew back into the shadow of the shelves and watched as the door to the workshop opened. A man slipped into the room, followed by another. They were lit by the pool of light from the cresset lamp. Jenny’s heart stopped, then pounded hard as she recognised Nate. The man with him was the shadowy figure she had seen at the Mystery.
They closed the door and looked round the room.
‘Where ya hidin’, girl?’ called Nate. ‘We seen ya come in. We ain’t goin’ ta hurt ya. You have somethin’ we want, that’s all.’
Jenny remained where she was, her panic rising. She knew they would see her as they came closer but she had no idea how she would get past them. She doubted that anyone would hear if she cried for help. She’d seen very few people on her way up, and the thick stone walls would probably prevent those few from hearing her. She pushed herself back against the shelves, trying to make herself smaller, to make herself invisible. She didn’t believe that they meant her no harm. She remembered her attacker’s mean and pitiless face when he’d hit her and sent her sprawling to the cobblestones. They were here to hurt her, whatever else might be their purpose.
Jenny felt a small bubble of hope as she watched them split up, Nate going right, the other moving to the left. She was directly opposite the door. She’d have to navigate round the table, but if she was quick enough, and they continued to the ends of the room, she just might make it. She watched them, and readied herself to run.
The second man moved more slowly than Nate and he had not gone far from the door when he spotted her. She saw him turn towards her hiding place and the shadows made the sly, mean smile that came to his face even more terrifying. It might have been the shadows, or perhaps losing too many fights in dark alleys or filthy gutters, but his smile was gap-toothed and feral. There was no shadow to hide the unpleasant gleam of anticipation in his eyes.
He continued to smile as he started towards her. His eyes never left her as he called to his mate.
‘’Ere, Nate! The lit’l rabbit’s right ’ere, hidin’.’
Jenny did feel like a rabbit, transfixed by the glare of the man’s eager, wicked eyes.
‘Watch ’er, Kurt,’ said Nate. ‘Mind ’er feet. She kicks ’ard for a little girl!’ He laughed, a sound of cruel mirth.
‘’Salright, Nate. She’s too scared to move!’
I won’t be a rabbit! Jenny told herself. Not for these weasels to do with as they like!
She stepped out of the shadows. The movement took Kurt by surprise. He stopped and his eyes narrowed, then he started towards her again. He was about twenty paces away. Out of the corner of her eye, Jenny glanced at Nate. He was a bit further away but he had rounded the far table and was in a direct line to her left. He came towards Jenny, then stopped and looked at the door. He moved backwards around the table, ready to cut off her dash for the door.
Jenny dropped the book and sprinted towards the door, sending the two men converging towards her exit. She ran three paces, wheeled round and rolled under the table. She came up by the shelves filled with Antrobus’s arcane liquids and powders.
Jenny’s change of direction took the men by surprise. By the time they had checked their momentum and scrambled round, Jenny had already grabbed the bottle of aqua fortis. As they approached, she calmly drew the stopper from the bottle.
‘Stay away from me,’ she warned. ‘This will turn your flesh to pottage.’
She didn’t really know what the liquid would do but she figured that if it ate metal it would do no less to human flesh.
Nate was the more cautious of the two. He stopped and watched her intently. Kurt continued to move towards her, though more slowly than before.
‘You ain’t foolin’ us with that, lass,’ said Nate. ‘You think we’re simple? What is it? Water? Mother’s milk mebbe? Whatever it is, put it down, or you’ll get Kurt ’ere all angry an’ mean. You don’t want that, believe me, lass. He’ll do ya good if ya don’t behave. You ain’t ’fraid of a little rabbit, are ya, Kurt?’
Kurt grinned and kept coming. Jenny realised that Nate was goading Kurt into going for her. If she did turn Kurt’s flesh to soup, well, Nate figured that was Kurt’s lookout. She wouldn’t have any left to use on him, and he didn’t intend to give her time to grab something else.
Jenny’s stomach churned. She wasn’t sure which was worse: finding that the stuff in the bottle did eat flesh the way it ate metal – or that it did nothing at all.
Kurt was only a few feet away; Nate stood back, watching. Her eyes on the approaching man, Jenny grabbed the spoon from the table, then she tipped the bottle and poured some of the aqua fortis on to it.
Once again, the liquid hissed and bubbled. An acrid cloud rose from the spoon and Jenny had to resist the urge to drop it. She saw the men’s eyes grow wide. Kurt stopped and stared at the spoon. He glanced nervously from Nate to Jenny.
The spoon was becoming warm in Jenny’s hand; too warm to hold. But instead of dropping it, she flicked it, still smoking and hissing, towards Kurt. It clattered on the floor, spinning towards Kurt’s boot. The man scrambled back fearfully, his eyes never leaving the spoon.
‘Damn ’er, Nate!’ Kurt shouted. ‘Look! Lookit the bleedin’ spoon!’
There was fear in Kurt’s face, worry in Nate’s. Jenny wasn’t going to let her advantage slip. She reached behind her and took another bottle from the shelf. She worked the stopper out with her thumb. With an open bottle in each hand, she walked round the table and towards the two men.
‘Leave. Leave now, or I’ll cover you both,’ she threatened. She strove to keep her voice steady, to keep the fear out. ‘This is called devil’s water because it burns like the fires of Hell. Your skin will catch fire, and the fire will burn your flesh to the bone. Then your bones will begin to melt. They’ll bubble and hiss and you’ll see the white turn black. Then it will seep into your blood and your blood will carry it to your face. From the inside it will turn your eyes into gobs of hot custard. It’ll pour out your nose and drip into your mouth, eating away your teeth and tongue. It’ll leak down your throats to your heart and burn it until there is nothing left to beat.’
The two men listened, fear growing in them. And as Jenny spoke and moved closer, step by step, they retreated, until their backs were against the door.
But Nate wasn’t about to be cowed by a girl. One hand slid beneath his dirty jerkin. Jenny was no more than six or seven paces away when he drew out a dagger and threw it straight at Jenny’s throat.
Nate prided himself on his skill with the dagger. There were at least two men who had died with his knife in their backs, and a few more who bore scars from its blade. He almost never missed. Jenny should have perished, there and then. But she didn’t.
Nate miscalculated, or clean forgot, how close he was to the door. As his hand whipped back, it struck the door, jarring his hand and ruining his throw. The knife intended for Jenny’s throat glanced off the bottle of aqua fortis. The bottle spun from her hand and flew across the floor. It hit the stones and shattered, small clouds of yellow smoke drifting from the spilled liquid.
Nate launched himself at Jenny. His left hand fastened around her neck and his right hand wrapped around the remaining bottle. Certain he had the danger – and victory – in his grasp, he tugged the bottle from her hand.
Startled, Jenny released her hold on the bottle. As Nate pulled it, he saw a small spurt of liquid rise above the rim. He was aware that the spurt became a wave and that it was speeding towards him. He felt a momentary twinge of fear. Then pain washed away every other feeling.
The wave washed over his face and he scream
ed as if the very fires of Hell were devouring him. He staggered back, dropping the bottle. It hit his boot and clunked to the floor, spilling out more of the liquid on his leg and foot and he screamed again at the unbearable pain.
Kurt stared in disbelief and fear. He saw Nate – it could have been me! – crumple in agony, writhing and crying on the floor. He could see the flesh bubbling. He didn’t even look at Jenny; he turned and fled.
For several seconds, Jenny stood and watched in horror, unable to move. She felt her legs buckle but she forced herself to stay on her feet. She hadn’t wanted this. She hadn’t wanted to harm anyone.
She didn’t know what the terrible liquid was but she knew – she could see – that it was eating him. She could see the white of his cheekbones and his nose was almost gone. Whatever it was had to be washed away. She looked round, while Nate’s screams weakened as pain leeched the strength from him. Near one of the furnaces she spotted two fire buckets. She grabbed one. The water splashed and sloshed as she ran back to Nate. He had stopped screaming and lay half conscious, emitting gurgled cries and whimpers. Jenny didn’t hesitate; she emptied the bucket on his face. His body jerked but little noise came from him. She rushed back for the second bucket. She lifted it above his still body, to douse him again, then stopped. She saw there was no point. Nate was dead.
Jenny put the bucket down, staring at the body. She saw the bottle lying on the floor. The label bore just one word, Vitriol. It meant nothing to her, but she wondered what Antrobus would want with anything that could be so terrible. Suddenly, she could no longer defy the weakness in her legs; she let them fold under her and she slid to the floor.
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