Part Two #3
The Alsarinaz Apothecary was a part of the Chemists Guild, with license to make and sell common household goods.
But there was some overlap with the Chemists Guild members who made medical potions and elixirs, like hair tonics for scalp conditions.
And, though they were in a separate Guild, the Cooks Guild, which included bakers as well as confectioners, also made some oils and herbals mixes of their own.
Conflicts usually occurred when someone pushed farther out into another Guild’s territory from one of the overlap areas, or usurped it altogether.
Decades ago, the Perfumers had accused the Chemists Guild of such a thing and there was still some bad blood about it.
Dorrimin’s family could make scents to add to their products, but not to sell on their own. Though for most scents they needed, they simply paid Perfumers to make them and thus peace was maintained. At least, for their side of the Guild. The Medicals might be doing anything.
Someday, all of that would become Dorrimin’s business, and he wasn’t sure he was the right one to handle things like that. Though Ollis would have been no help even had she been inclined to chemistry. She could be blunter than Dorrimin. Meanwhile, Dorrimin was thoughtful but not friendly.
“You know who would help keep the frowns off your face, maybe smooth the way when you struggle to understand a social situation?” his mother suggested, startling him by correctly reading his expression. He could tell from her tone she was going to say Tommick.
“Am I that unpleasant?” Dorrimin glanced out the window again but the pub Tommick had gone to was not on this level, or so he had said.
“Intimidating, dear. Just a little. Regulars know not to take it personally, but….”
“Part of being a successful head of a workshop and a Master in a Guild is knowing how to make nice and be political.” Dorrimin sighed heavily. “Not just hiding in the basement to make potions,” he added, glum about it.
“And you need more fresh air and sunshine.” Her settled tone was alarming, and Dorrimin realized why when his mother went on. “Weather permitting, you and Tommick should go on a little trip to see more of the city and surrounding lands. I’ll ask Tommick about it when I see him again.”
There was a Matchmakers Guild, although as far as Dorrimin knew, his mother was not in it.
Mothers were like that, Tommick had said, but he must have meant Millia, which didn’t make sense. Unless… unless that was why she winked whenever she saw Dorrimin.
“Mother.” Dorrimin stood very still. “You don’t need to do that.”
She looked up from winding a spool of twine that must have come loose. “Do you not like Tommick? I thought he was your friend.”
“I don’t have any friends outside of the family.
” That was the truth. He’d had some friends as a child.
Then he’d come of age and shot up like a gangly crane, and his stern, funereal features had hardly been pleasing.
Once his friends had begun to get sweethearts or started courting for real, they’d sort of melted away, too busy, or not interested in talk about floor polish.
That Dorrimin had never had a sweetheart, even a glimmer of one, said enough.
Maybe he did need other interests. Tommick kept insisting he would like poetry. And now art as well, if paint was chemistry. Dorrimin might like to study it. Maybe Tommick would take such a class with him.
He did stop in frequently. More like every other day now, every three days at the longest, unless family events kept him away longer.
Tommick wasn’t inclined to love complex calculations or to do any work involving precision, but he was good for smelling concoctions and deciding which scent would likely sell the best, or if the texture felt wrong.
He was quite skilled at putting Dorrimin at ease.
He was as good at that as he was standing at the counter and persuading customers to try this or that, as though he’d ever cleaned in his life.
He went by Millia’s opinions, he claimed.
Customers had no idea a Fortune was selling to them while in his college clothes, but he made them smile and laugh and buy things anyway.
Sometimes he walked with Dorrimin when Dorrimin ran errands or made special deliveries.
He liked to walk. He was sturdy, as Ollis claimed.
Dorrimin still wasn’t sure what Tommick got out of it.
Dorrimin was a stick-in-the-mud. He didn’t mean to be, but he was, and he wasn’t attractive like Tommick to make up for it.
Tommick was off with his friends having a good time, having forgotten about Dorrimin and his intention to come back.
Maybe he had a sweetheart. Or lovers but no sweetheart.
“You’re brooding again.” His mother tugged Dorrimin from his darkening thoughts and shook her head when he glanced to her. “Why don’t you do something with that energy and run out to get us some sausages and tea and extra candles, in case the storm lasts longer than expected?”