Brimstone

by Skinner, Alan

  ‘She spends almost all her time there. Some nights, I think she’d sleep there – or not sleep at all – if I didn’t drag her back to Rumpkin’s.’

  They walked through Vale, Emily chatting to Jenny’s father as if she had known him not just now and at the start of her life, but all the days in between. Ewan was content to let the young woman’s words flow and, for the first time in nearly a fortnight, he felt easier about his daughter’s life in Vale.

  *

  Harcourt watched the two people walk down the stone corridor towards him. He recognised Emily, but the tall, lean man with her was a stranger to him. His senses sharpened and his body tensed. He studied the stranger. He was not a city man; his tanned, weathered face and the way he walked told him that more than the clothes he wore. He sensed there was nothing to fear from the man, but his training was ingrained and held on to his wariness.

  Emily smiled at him. Inwardly, he sighed. He didn’t know how she managed to make each smile so bright and each greeting so genuine.

  ‘Hello, Harcourt,’ she said. She reached into her basket and took out a small earthenware jug. ‘Ale,’ she said, handing it to him. She took out a pie, wrapped in several layers of cloth. ‘A beef pie.’ She handed him the parcel and reached into the basket once again. ‘And honey cakes. Honey and nutmeg, I think.’

  Harcourt took the food, beaming at Emily, then realised he had his hands full and there was a man he didn’t know standing in front of him. He cocked an eye and looked from Emily to Ewan.

  ‘Thank you, Mistress Trickett. Would you care to introduce your friend so I can eat this without worrying that I’m going to have to stop halfway through the pie to rescue you and Mistress Swift?’

  Harcourt’s tone was light and good-natured but Ewan could hear the slightest edge of warning under the words.

  ‘Harcourt, you’ll never guess who this is!’ Emily said, and without giving Harcourt a chance to prove he could, she told him. ‘This is Master Swift, Jenny’s father!’

  ‘I should’ve known,’ said Harcourt. He shifted the jug into the crook of his left arm and gave his cap a quick tug with his right hand. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Master Swift.’

  Ewan held out his hand. Harcourt hesitated. Though he feared no man, he showed deference to most. He knew the order of things, and accepted that he was near the bottom of the human pile. And experience had shown him that most men, when offered deference, don’t like letting go of it. Yet the man before him was giving him the courtesy of an equal, though Harcourt knew that Swift was not only a learned man, but a well-connected one. He took Ewan’s hand and clasped it firmly.

  ‘Call me Ewan.’

  Harcourt gave a nod, then turned to Emily. ‘Have you seen Tom today?’ he asked.

  Emily blushed, giving her face a rosy glow. ‘He woke! Only for a few minutes, but he opened his eyes and smiled at me!’

  ‘Smiled at you, eh? Well, that sounds like Tom. If he’s getting better, it might be safer for you if we get someone else to look after him.’

  Emily’s look told him what she thought of that idea.

  Harcourt chuckled. ‘Well, if he tries to kiss you, you tell me and I’ll sort him out.’

  Emily thought she might do many things if Tom kissed her but telling Harcourt would definitely not be one of them. She blushed again and opened the door.

  The room was a fog of smoke, and filled with a penetrating, acrid smell. Jenny didn’t hear them enter. She was standing next to the athanor, the large furnace in the corner, the red glow from its coals on her face. Soot and coal dust marked her cheeks and forehead. On top of the athanor, an alembic bubbled. Vapour rose from the murky liquid inside, crept along a long narrow glass tube that slanted downwards from the top and then reformed as a clear liquid before dripping into a pot. Jenny opened the small iron door at the bottom of the athanor and tossed in a panful of coals.

  Scattered over the table behind her were plates of crystals, jars of salts and liquids, crucibles, glass tubes and a myriad of earthenware pots. In the middle of everything, a book lay open, like a sorcerer’s recipe book.

  ‘Jenny!’ called Emily.

  Jenny closed the furnace door and turned. She saw her father and her face lit up. She ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. Ewan circled her with his arms and kissed her hair. Neither spoke for a minute.

  ‘Oh, Papa, I’ve missed you,’ Jenny murmured. Abruptly, she took her arms from his neck and looked at him, her eyes full of fear. ‘Mama ...’ she started but Ewan cut her off.

  ‘Your mother is fine, Jenny,’ Ewan assured her, ‘though she is not the same without you. No, I’m here to meet Rayker.’

  When Rayker had said he was going to ask for her father’s help, she had never dreamed that he would come to Vale. For a moment, Jenny forgot everything else as she hugged her father again.

  ‘I was going to apologise for my appearance but I think it’s better than yours,’ Ewan joked. ‘I went straight to Rumpkin’s to see you and met Mistress Trickett –’

  ‘Emily,’ the young woman reminded him.

  ‘– Emily, and she steered me here. She’s brought you supper.’

  ‘Is it supper time already? I hadn’t noticed.’ She clutched her father’s arm. ‘Oh, I am just so happy to see you! How long are you staying? What’s happening with Rayker? Did you find Jack? Did he have Master Antrobus?’

  ‘Let’s have some supper and I’ll tell you what’s happened,’ said Ewan.

  They set out their meal. Ewan watched Jenny as they did. She had changed. Not physically. But she’d grown inside and it made her appear different. She had an intensity she’d not had before.

  While they ate, he told what had happened over the past few days.

  ‘I can’t see how we’ll get Jack and his band without losing a lot of men. I scouted the top of the cliff above the cave. There are a few crevices, but none large enough for a man to enter. There is a small opening at the rear of the cave. They’ve made a trail to a narrow ravine, just wide enough for a man on a horse, which goes almost up to the Old Road. If they choose to stay in the cave, they could hold off an army. Sending a file of men along that trail would be suicide. There’s more chance at the front but they have a good defensive position there, too. We might overrun them after a while, but the loss of men would be too great. And, it isn’t certain they have Master Antrobus.’

  ‘I don’t think they’ll kill him,’ said Jenny. ‘They want something from him. They won’t kill him until they have it.’

  ‘What if they already have it?’ Emily asked.

  Ewan blew out his cheeks. ‘Then he’s probably dead already.’

  Jenny stared at her plate. She picked up a small crumb of crust and held it high above her mug and let it fall. ‘We have to get them out of the cave,’ she said absently. ‘Do the air crevices go all the way down into the cave, like chimneys?’

  ‘It’s hard to say. One, maybe two, I’m sure do. Most probably snake down, stopping the rain from getting in.’

  Jenny continued to stare pensively. Ewan looked at her and she caught his look. ‘I have an idea, but I’m not sure it will work. I’ll have to test it. If it does work, they’ll all come out.’

  Ewan was about to ask what her idea was, but he didn’t. Unexpectedly, he found himself not needing to know – whatever Jenny had in mind, she knew what she was doing.

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘How much time do you need to test it?’

  ‘A few hours, I think. But if I’m right, I’ll have to work all night to make enough.’

  ‘Then we have much to do,’ said Emily.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Jenny, laying her hand on Emily’s. She squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘It’s dangerous, though. Perhaps you –’

  Emily cut her off. ‘Perhaps I should return home and go to bed? Jenny Swift, do you think I’m some delicate, spoiled young lady who’s afraid of ... of ... whatever it is you have around here?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ said Jenny affectionatel
y. ‘But you’re also a good friend. What I was going to say is that perhaps you should go and see Tom first. And then, when you get back, we’ll find an apron to cover those pretty clothes of yours.’

  ‘Show me what to do, and I’ll help,’ Ewan said. ‘You’ll be the master this time.’

  ‘You look exhausted,’ Jenny said to him sternly. ‘You can go and get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day, one way or another, and I’m not going to spend it worrying that one of Jack’s hobgoblins will put an arrow into you because you’re tired. Now go, and stop worrying about me.’

  Ewan kissed his daughter. ‘I’ve stopped worrying, Jenny,’ he said tenderly, ‘but I’ll never stop being proud.’

  Ewan Swift escorted Emily to Fenwick Square, then headed to the Goose’s Egg, an inn close to the palace. The evening was chilly and he sat in front of the fire, nursing a strong ale. He watched the diligent flames at their work and he thought about his daughter. When his ale was finished, he went to his room, his heart heavy. Jenny was no longer his. She was where she belonged.

  *

  Among Antrobus’s scribbled pages, Jenny had come across a reference to a strange, white, wax-like substance that he had created while distilling something. The substance gave off a green-tinged glow when exposed to the air and was very dangerous ... She read his description several times – and his warnings. He’d called it Lucifer’s Light.

  He’d made some more and had stored it in an earthenware jar, placed within another jar filled with water. She’d need to make more but not too much. That was good. She read again how he’d created it. That was very good.

  Her problem was how to use it, and how to allow it to be carried safely to the cave. Lucifer’s Light was safe enough underwater but once exposed to air ... Antrobus’s description of the effects of a very, very small amount worried her. She thought of Nate, and his horrific death. She did not want anyone else to die, be they soldier or outlaw.

  She set to work. She stoked the athanor until it was as hot as she could make it. Then, she went down to the animal pens to get the next ingredient.

  *

  Jenny opened the spigot of the barrel and wrinkled her nose in disgust. The smell was foul. Trying not to breathe, she let the brown liquid fill the bucket. Antrobus had been collecting it for months, she’d learned. He had two large tuns of it stored near the animal pens. Six palace porters, none of them too happy about being asked, carried the barrels to the workroom. When they finished, she had them collect barrels of sand from the banks of the Blasted River that flowed past the walls.

  ‘Make sure you take it from where the sand is white and shiny,’ Jenny instructed them.

  ‘You want us to do this tonight?’ asked one.

  ‘Tonight,’ said Jenny in a tone that didn’t invite further comment. ‘Now, please.’

  And so she had barrels of sand alongside the barrels of urine.

  Jenny began to decant the urine into a very large alembic on the athanor. The apparatus consisted of a giant bulbous bowl with a long, thin neck. To its right was a similar but smaller long-necked bowl. The two were joined by a thin tube of glass that sloped downward from the tall one to the shorter one on the right. This second bowl was half filled with water. To pour the liquid into the first bowl, she had to climb a small ladder.

  ‘That smells awful,’ said Emily almost gagging. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Urine,’ replied Jenny. ‘From the sty.’

  ‘Pig’s pee!’ exclaimed Emily. She nearly dropped the pestle she was holding. ‘Don’t get any of that on me.’

  ‘Then be quiet for a minute while I do this.’ Jenny tilted the barrel to get the last of the urine. ‘I don’t want it on me, either. And keep grinding.’

  Emily pulled her lips together. They stayed that way for several seconds.

  ‘It’s very pretty,’ she said. ‘Like delicate yellow glass crystals. Seems a pity to crush it like this.’

  She poured the crushed sulphur into the crucible Jenny had given her and put more sulphur crystals into the mortar. When she was finished, it would go into the other alembic on the second furnace. ‘I always thought brimstone was fiery, not pretty like this.’

  ‘It can be, but whatever you do, don’t set it alight,’ said Jenny, lifting the bucket. She climbed the ladder and poured the contents into the crucible. ‘I did and it smells terrible, almost as bad as marsh gas or –’

  ‘– Old John, our gardener, after he’s eaten cabbage,’ Emily finished for her.

  Jenny laughed. ‘I don’t know old John but I do know many who shouldn’t eat cabbage!’ She wiped her hands.

  Their laughter was interrupted by a knock on the door. It opened, and Harcourt stuck his head in. He sniffed, and made a face.

  ‘There’s a young lady to see you. Says she’s come to help.’

  He stood aside and Frida entered. She hesitated in the doorway.

  ‘I’ve come to help, if I can,’ she said nervously. ‘I’m not sure what’s happening, but when I heard Emily saying to Rumpkin she’d be here with you all night, I knew there was something. And if it has to do with Master Antrobus being taken and my father, I’d like to help. To make up for things.’

  ‘You’ve nothing to make up for, Frida,’ said Jenny. ‘What your father did doesn’t come back on you.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Frida. ‘It’s not what he did. It’s to make up for me not asking him questions because I feared the answers.’

  Emily glanced at Jenny. She hoped Jenny would say yes. It would help Frida; between the grief of loss and the grief of guilt, the proud young woman had much to work through.

  ‘Come help me open the wall. It’s going to get a lot hotter in here, and full of very unpleasant smells. Lots of cabbage, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Not us!’ Emily added quickly.

  The three girls laughed and Frida and Jenny moved the huge wooden door that opened the corner of the room to the night sky. A fresh breeze blew in, diminishing the heat and odour.

  Frida looked at the alembic. Rank-smelling steam was rising from the bowl, up the long neck, then down the sloping tube. As the steam ran along the tube, it dripped into the neck of the one on the right.

  ‘May I?’ said Frida. Jenny nodded and Frida climbed the ladder and peered at the boiling urine, apparently impervious to the stench. She looked down at Jenny with a puzzled expression.

  ‘That needs to boil down until it’s thick, like mud from the moor. It’ll take a while,’ explained Jenny. ‘Then we’ll heat it again, with the sand and charcoal, and pass the vapours through water.’

  Frida looked at the sand, the urine vapours, the blazing fire and the liquid condensing in the alembic on the second furnace.

  ‘Earth, air, fire and water,’ she said. ‘The four elements for life, I think you alchemists say.’

  Close enough, thought Jenny. I hope they’re all we need for Antrobus’s life.

  *

  Pitch was tired. With Jenny under the protection of Harcourt, there was no need to stand watch over Antrobus’s house. So Rayker had given Pitch another job.

  Vale was a large city but its system of square wardens had proved to be an effective way of not only policing the city, but of gathering information. The wardens, of course, couldn’t watch all the time, but people did. They looked out of their windows at neighbours and strangers going by; they glanced and nodded to people who passed them on the street; and though they were not particularly observant, they generally noticed anything out of the ordinary. And wardens chatted and gossiped to the people in their square and so knew pretty much everything that happened.

  But no one had seen a group of men, probably on horseback, enter or leave Fenwick Square the night Antrobus disappeared. In fact, no one he could find had seen such a group anywhere in Vale. Pitch had talked to all the wardens in all the squares near his and still drew a blank. He yawned. It was getting late. The wardens would be going to bed and few would welcome being disturbed at this time of night by Pitch and his
questions. Tomorrow he would start again, talking to wardens in squares and streets farther away.

  A glow at the palace caught his eye. He looked across the rooftops and saw a halo of yellow-orange light in a small corner high in the palace. Antrobus’s workroom, he thought. That must be Jenny. She’s a good one. At least she’s safe.

  He headed back to his little house.

  *

  Just before retiring, Emeric the Duke stood on his balcony and gazed across the city of Vale. Silver light and shadows played in the squares and the alleys, and the ghostly outlines of trees swayed in the soft night wind. His eyes turned to the old part of the palace. The corner of the topmost section glowed with the murky yellow light of candles and rushes. And in the middle of that light was a brighter glow of red and deep orange. It was like a set in a theatre. Three dark figures – slight, silhouette puppets – moved ceaselessly to and fro. He watched until the town bell tolled ten o’clock, then he silently wished the players goodnight, and went to his bed.

  Chapter 15

  Lucifer’s Candles

  Antrobus waited. He had no idea how long it had been since he’d called the guard and handed over what he had written. The man hadn’t spoken. He had taken the sheets – and the quill and ink from the table and the torch from the wall – and left. In the darkness, Antrobus had heard the door close and the click of its lock.

  He had no idea either how long it had been since Jack had told him that he had a day before Jenny would be brought to the cell to be murdered. Had he been too quick to be convincing? Or had he been too late? Perhaps at that moment they were bringing her to the cell. Once here, why would they let her go, no matter what he said? He knew they would kill him as soon as he gave them what they wanted. They would have no reason not to do the same to Jenny.

  He heard the door open. The flare of the torch made him blink. Jack entered the cell, anger on his face. He held the sheets of parchment in his fist. The outlaw leader walked up to Antrobus and struck him across the face, hard. Antrobus staggered, then fell to his knees. Jack threw the parchment at him. He felt the crisp pieces of paper flutter down around him.