Dawn
People were singing in the tavern beneath the inn as Elias lay in bed too far from sleep. He’d had to wait two days for a boat heading as far as the Netherlands.
Ships to England came and went often, but heading that far north was a special occasion.
Elias liked Ireland, though not as much as Italy. He was aware that it had something to do with the weather. Perhaps he would come back in the summer and see if that changed.
He huffed a laugh, thinking again. Perhaps in the summer. He probably wouldn’t have money for travel next year. This was probably the only travel he would get to have in his entire life.
Elias turned over, rested his chin in his arms, and breathed in the scent of crisp Irish linen.
Perhaps instead . . . if he survived this and went back to normal, he could go to Alain. Stay with him and learn the mysteries of blood. Clean that horrible room and tend the garden to pay for his upkeep. Get buried under the peach tree in a few years.
Unless Victor’s request required him to live in Germany . . .
He did have plans to return to Jaan and that one student—if he hadn’t already fled Ingelstad.
Jaan and Reiner did seem pretty happy with their current arrangement.
But perhaps Jaan, who started weeping at the idea that Elias didn’t know how to read, would take to the challenge long enough for Elias to find placement elsewhere.
Elias wasn’t exactly enjoying Brogan’s implications regarding him, but they did bring forth a question he hadn’t had before meeting her.
An alchemist, from his previous understanding, was someone who went to school, got a degree, was placed with an apprenticeship, chose what element to craft in, then embedded themselves in a community and built out the ability to make dynamic impact on people.
There appeared to be some kind of magic involved, but it wasn’t a lot, and it seemed to be immaterial or literally just very advanced science.
Brogan, with her suspicions about Victor, had implied that Elias had something that Victor didn’t.
But where did that leave him? The illiterate son of a tavern keeper, yes. But Elias had never needed anything but the force of his will to be strong. Victor had money and status, but he was a coward and an opportunist. Elias himself might be able to do more with less, as sad as that was to imagine.
Elias brushed his fingertips across the new thick cable between them and felt more echoes of despair. He strained his heart toward mercy for a minute, then passed the softest vibration of patience Victor’s way.
Confusion and greater despair came back to him.
Elias sighed and released it. Tried to get some sleep.