CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

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Iris

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Novos, 927 PC

The fireplace warmed Iris’ back as she looked around Master Rellin’s study. With so many hours spent behind the heavy oak doors since becoming his apprentice, the room had lost its shine. By now, she knew nearly every detail inside its walls. There were two hundred forty-eight squares in the design of the rugs. Eighty-two pieces of wood adhered to each of the curved beams that stretched the width of the room. How far the shadows would creep across the room as evening approached. What the university’s bell sounded like at high noon. Among other things so trivial and minute she tried not to know them. Then there was the mural of Locke; her favorite piece in the room. It was all but embedded in her mind now. She believed few would be better suited to plot a route through the city than her. A fact her growing insecurity found comforting.

She was staring at the heavy snow outside, thinking about James, when Master Rellin grunted in frustration. A smile curled her lips as she turned to see Master Rellin at his desk, throwing pieces of parchment and knocking stacks of books over in search of something he believed was of utmost importance. Occasionally, he would stop and look at a note or document and grunt as if remembering something else on his long list of things to do for their project. As flustered as he was, she knew he was excited. She was too. It was an enormous day for them both. It had taken a few weeks for the two to open up as they worked alongside each other in Master Rellin’s personal laboratory. Iris had been nervous at first. A secret desire to eradicate a chunk of the empire’s population. A secret relationship with one of the very people she sought to destroy. Not a topic she was willing to discuss openly. Not without sound assurance she was doing so for the betterment of her cause. But then Master Rellin broke the ice, shattered may be a better description, when he said the very words that had been repeating in her mind for years; I want to rid the world of Purists. The real work began immediately. Hours upon hours of researching pure magic, Purists, souls, surgery, traditional medicine, alchemicals used in advanced medicine, and every other topic or detail the two geniuses could think of. To create the substance that sloshed around in the vial between her fingertips.

Not all in Iris’ life was so perfect though. News of her father’s death came from Faylawn not long after securing her apprenticeship. The loss had crushed her. Her father had been her closest friend and biggest supporter of her work in alchemy. Though, he was oblivious to her true plans. He wouldn’t have understood. His heart was too pure, too kind to stand up for what he deserved. Master Rellin had tried to fill the void and he had achieved, to a degree. But it had been James that let her cry on his shoulder at night. Held her close when guilt and sorrow had overwhelmed her. It was James that lifted her back to her feet, pushed her back into the laboratory every morning. The wall she had built between herself and James had collapsed beneath the weight of his kindness. She had let him far deeper into her heart than she had ever intended. Flirtation and manipulation had turned into feelings and romance. Intimacy came shortly after. And regularly. And now, just after having narrowed her secrets down to one, she once again had a second. One that could not be hidden much longer. If her assumptions were right, she was at least a month pregnant, maybe more. The signs were there and the physical element had been performed more than enough times to reject the possibility. What was I thinking? James is a Purist. My one and only enemy. Even if I came to love him, Master Rellin would never allow me to let him live, to let him keep his magic. And what if my child is magical? What then? The thought alone made her tremble.

She glanced down at the purple liquid sloshing around in the glass tube. I shouldn’t have lied to him. All he ever wants to do is help.

“Ah! Here it is!” said Master Rellin suddenly. He turned from his desk and made his way across the room, a piece of parchment in hand. His perfectly shaven face made him look far younger than she knew him to be. He often bellowed his dislike of it but also claimed it was important for a man of academia to look presentable, taught to him by his father. When he was close enough he handed her a blank piece of parchment.

“What is it sir?” she asked, eyeing the man and the parchment. She reached for her glass of warm tea on the square table in front of her. It sat lower than any she had ever used in Faylawn. A fruit platter lay in the middle, a bottle of whiskey and four empty glasses sat beside it.

Master Rellin handed her the document and grabbed a handful of grapes from the platter. “It is called concealment parchment. The same kind they use for the secrets contained in the Tomb of the Nightingale.” How in the three hells did he get this? Concealment parchment was well-known but extremely rare outside the walls of the tomb. The alchemists of Rewan had created it. The method of its creation died with their culture. There were vines all around the borders, small birds were entangled in them or sitting on them, all their beaks were closed tightly.

“Rewanese alchemy.” she said.

“Very astute,” he replied. “How did you know that?”

She glanced at him, wondering if he was testing her or if she had somehow surpassed her teacher. “There is a passage on the inside cover of A Common Life by Arren Walendar. When I could not read it I researched what the language was… then the entire culture,” she said.

“And can you read and write in Rewanese?” he asked.

“Aye.”

“Very good. This, Iris. This is why I know you will be the greatest alchemist to ever live. You’re more than just a student of alchemy. You thirst for knowledge in all areas. Your mind knows no limits. And most importantly, you don’t simply say you want something. You do until it’s yours.” He picked up an apple slice from the platter. “I must know.” There was a loud snap as he bit into the fruit. “Where does your thirst come from? What makes you believe you can retain so much information?”

A famous question came to mind. One she had both read and contemplated several times in the Hall of Histories. “How much would a box contain if not restricted by the limitations of its walls?” Master Rellin grinned, obviously knowing the equally as infamous response given by Arren Walendar.

“I dare say, such a box would contain less than it would if given its walls due to the mind’s unwillingness to see such a box as a box at all.”

“My mind is willing to disregard all boundaries, all limitations. There is no other way to achieve greatness,” said Iris.

Master Rellin grinned. “Right, you are.”

He stared at her with admiration. And kept staring.

“What does it say?” she asked to break the awkward silence. And to satisfy her desire to know more about the secret hidden inside the parchment.

He was still staring at her when he said, “Nothing yet.” He gestured for the blank parchment paper and walked toward the fireplace. “But I’d like you to conceal our formula within it.”

She finished her tea and set the cup down.

“It’d be an honor,” she said with a smile. “It’s not everyday someone gets to use concealment parchment.”

“Excellent.”

“When would you like me to start?” she asked.

“In time. But not just yet.”

“Are you hoping to confirm the accuracy of our work first?” She could feel her curiosity scratching for answers. She hated when Master Rellin, or anyone, knew more about something than she did.

Master Rellin grinned. “Iris. Surely you don’t believe we’ve made a mistake…”

“I suppose not sir, but then why the necessity to wait?”

“We must first acquire a quill capable of concealing such a precious secret.

“I see.” How are we going to manage that?

“How’s the Purist? James was it?” Master Rellin asked. Iris didn’t flinch a muscle upon the surprise question. You won’t catch me in a lie. Not yet anyway.

“I haven’t seen him in months,” she said.

“That’s wonderful news. He is trouble, Iris. I felt it the second I saw him, but I couldn’t quite remember who he was. He will make you believe in his false cause of bridging the gap between commoners and Purists until he’s done using you for whatever it is he wants out of you. He’s done it before. To brilliant commoners all over Locke.”

There was a knock on the large arched door across the room. Iris peered at the infamous alchemist.

“Ah,” he said as he stood. “Invited guests. The men who will acquire our quill for us.”

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Master Rellin greeted a man he called Harlow graciously. Instantly, Iris could tell Harlow had bitten off more than he could chew in one too many bar fights. A second man followed him into the study. Both men’s shoulders were covered in snow, as was their hair. Harlow’s brown cloak was ragged, torn in a few places, covered in dried stains. He hugged Master Rellin and thanked him emphatically for allowing them in his study. The man to his right was clean shaven with slick hair, deep eyes, and seemed excessively alert of his surroundings. Their eyes met. His stare sent a powerful sense of discomfort through her. She smiled uncomfortably and turned her eyes to Harlow who had his arm around Master Rellin’s shoulder as they walked toward her, apologizing about being late.

Then the men joined her by the fireplace Master Rellin picked up the fruit tray and stood between the chairs the guests had sat down in. “I’d like to thank you gentlemen for joining us. It couldn’t possibly have been an easy trip across the city in this weather.”

“I’d do it twice over for you Rellin,” Harlow said with a smile.

“You’re a fool then,” the other man said. Iris couldn’t tell if he was ridiculing the man or if the two had a relationship that allowed for such talk. The nervous man took several grapes and orange wedges, Harlow took several slices of apples. Both devoured the food as though they hadn’t eaten in days.

“Do ya mind if I have a drink?” Harlow asked politely.

“Please do,” Master Rellin replied. He pointed at the whiskey on the square table.

“I’ll just take some water, if that’s alright.” Harlow wandered off in the direction the host pointed.

“He don’t drink whiskey anymore,” the other man said. They clearly know each other from somewhere.

Things weren’t adding up in Iris’ head very quickly, a strange feeling for the woman. She studied them both, Urman sitting in his chair, his eyes glancing all about as he talked to Master Rellin, Harlow standing confidently at an armoire pouring water from a metal pitcher as if he owned the place.

“What’s your name?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. The handsome man stopped his whining about the weather and looked at her.

He pointed at his own chest. “Me?” Obviously. She nodded.

Master Rellin interjected. “Oh my, I do apologize. I should have introduced you, Urman.” He turned to Iris. “This is Urman Gant. From right here in Locke. Harlow is his younger brother.”

“Never been anywhere else,” Urman said proudly. Iris certainly wasn’t impressed.

“I see. Well, it is a pleasure to meet you both,” Iris said.

“We’ll see,” Master Rellin said. He grinned at Urman.

Harlow returned to the little area around the fireplace with his cup full of water. The snow in his hair was beginning to melt, dampening his hair as it did. He and Master Rellin took their seats.

“So, what did you bring us here for?” Urman asked. Harlow nodded in equal curiosity.

The old alchemist leaned forward and picked up the piece of parchment from the table. He examined it closely as he spoke. “This is concealment parchment.” Both men looked at him as if they understood the magnitude of his words.

“How’d you get a hold of that?” Urman asked. “Ain’t all of it locked up tight in the tomb?”

“I’m afraid that information is not to be made public knowledge.”

“Standard fair,” Harlow said. It’s his eyes. He has very kind eyes. Just like James. Then she thought about the time she had seen James’ eyes go from a soft blue to a dark shade of navy. Evil lives behind James’ eyes. She found herself tuning back into Master Rellin’s voice mid-sentence.

“... I’m not the most forthcoming man in the kingdom, but you must realize I’ve never steered you gentlemen wrong,” he said. He slid the piece of parchment across the table toward Urman. It stuck nicely beneath his finger.

“You got a message hidden inside?,” he asked as he examined it.

“Not yet,” Master Rellin said. “But it is important that we do. Very soon.”

Harlow said, “Worried about the-'' He looked at Iris, then back at the old man.

“I am,” the man replied. “I think Iris may be able to help with that.” What the hell are we talking about?

“Excuse me,” Iris said. “May I please be let in on this secret?”

“In time, Iris. In time. Show them the vial,” Master Rellin said. The vial? Oh! The vial. She had almost forgotten why she had been summoned to the man’s study in the first place.

She reached into her pocket and handed the tube to the old man.

“This here,” he said. “This is an opportunity for commoners to stand as equals with the Purists.” The purple liquid bubbled gently, waiting to be unleashed on the kingdom.

“What is it?” Urman asked. He laid the piece of parchment on the table and moved to the edge of his chair.

Iris spoke, eager to show off her work. “It's a mixture of several things I can’t speak of.” Urman rolled his eyes. “Together they are able to create a barrier around the human soul, to make it tangible. Visible so to speak.”

Harlow was clearly not following the real meaning of the conversation very well, but Urman was sharp and clever. He scratched his chin, bit his lip.

“So you’re able to figure out where the magic is inside their bodies?” he asked.

She grinned at him. “Yes.”

“Three hells.” The men spoke in unison.

“Then what?” Urman asked.

“Once we can isolate the magic we can extract it but we haven’t solved how to accomplish that,” Master Rellin said. “But that’s for us to figure out. I need something different from you gentlemen.”

Urman sat back in his chair. “I assume there’s something dangerous to be done? That’s where we always come in isn’t it? ”

Master Rellin stood from his chair and made his way across the room toward his messy desk.

Iris looked at the men. “You’d be doing us, no, the entire kingdom, a huge service,” she said, unsure what her mentor’s plan for the men was, but positive it had to do with concealing their formula forever.

Harlow smiled. “Count me in.” She smiled back at him.

Urman wasn’t so easily convinced. “What do we need to do?”

“Well,” Master Rellin spoke from his desk. He was gathering two goblets and a bottle of what looked like wine. “We really only need one of you. I just figured I would invite you both to see who was more interested in helping.” He made his way back to the group.

“Like I said, I’ll gladly help. Let big brother here sit this one out.” Harlow laughed at his own comment.

“Would that be alright with you?” Master Rellin asked Urman. He sat the two goblets down on the table. He popped the corked from the bottle and filled one halfway.

“I don’t see why not,” Urman said as he took the wine.

Urman lifted the goblet to his mouth, not waiting for Master Rellin to fill the second for his brother. Iris watched as the old man’s closed palm opened over the goblet in a peculiar, albeit, slick fashion. He handed the drink to the friendly man with all five fingers draped over the rim.

“I learned in Silverton once upon a time to always celebrate momentous moments with white wine rather than that bloody red so many love.” Master Rellin stepped away from the table and popped a grape into his mouth. Iris could see Harlow smiling as he sipped on his drink. She had half a notion to stop him, but in the end remained still. Whatever Rellin’s done is in some way useful, just trust him.

“Silverton, ay,” Harlow said. “What were you doing in-” he stopped. His eyes widened, the goblet fell to the ground, wine spilled on the wooden floor. The man grabbed at his neck but it was useless. He coughed and gagged violently. Iris felt her own chest tighten. Is he alright? She looked at Master Rellin who was watching the man choke with a sinister grin. Surely he’s not killing him?

Urman shot up from his chair and fell to his knees beside his brother. “Harlow! Harlow! Are you alright?” He pounded on the choking man’s back. “Harlow!”

The man stopped coughing and moving altogether, his arms fell to his side, his eyes closed. Urman looked at Master Rellin. “What did you do?!”

“He will be fine. We just needed collateral, that’s all.” The old man’s voice was calm, nonchalant, as if nothing had happened.

Urman stood. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Harlow is a sweet man, Urman. Skilled in his own right… but he isn’t the man for this job.” Master Rellin paused. “You are.”