Chapter 6
“Absolutely not. He lied to us last time, and I will not scare a servant into keeping quiet simply because the sod can’t discern basic kindness from romantic advances.
” Tal pointed her fork at Rainier and shook her head.
“If he’s too afraid to properly find other men of his persuasion, he can figure it out on his own. It’s not our job to clean up his mess.”
Rain’s quill scratched across his list of outstanding bounties.
“Well, we’re getting backlogged and haven’t had payment in days.
” He skimmed the list on the table in front of him.
A plate of sausage and cheese sat between him, Tal, and Egan.
They convened in the tavern by the butcher’s, their usual choice to talk business.
“The satchel on the south pier had a letter,” he said, his tone less than hopeful.
“Oh? And what new bounty do we have this week?” Tal asked.
“Apparently, one of the lesser gangs doesn’t like the new leadership. We’ve been challenged to step aside.” His tone lacked the seriousness of his words.
Tal scoffed around a bite of sausage. “What leadership? We have no empire, no business, no men. If they wanted, they could just claim the title.”
“It appears the gang leaders are still holding to their promise to stick to their territories. It’s the lesser grunts who have an issue.”
“That’s their problem. Let them fight it out. We have other things to worry about before entertaining this ruling business.”
“Agreed. I just thought you’d like to know since they put a bounty on you.” He smirked at the cynical turn of Tal’s mouth.
“Who do they expect to fill the bounty?” Tal shook her head. “Sometimes I wonder if these dullards know which end they piss out of.”
“The price is… considerably high, and we’re running low on healing elixirs.” He scratched a note into his book.
“I’m still waiting on payment for Brott’s bounty,” Egan offered. “That bird was not easy to find, and he keeps giving me the slip.”
Tal stabbed a chunk of cheese. “He thinks he can avoid paying you because you won’t break his hand. I’ll send Carrick to collect.” It wasn’t the first time someone refused to pay, but Egan forgave too easily. “Anything else?”
“Just the bounty for the cheating husband,” Rain said.
Tal sighed. “I haven’t figured out his punishment. It needs to be something his wife can dole out.”
“Narcolepsis?” Egan asked, scratching behind his ear.
“So, he’ll fall asleep when he visits his mistress? I think we need something a little more vengeful.”
“Well, I think your options at this point would be Marjoramint or Emetikos. Though, I’m guessing a permanently limp member isn’t harsh enough.” Rain closed his book.
“Emetikos it is then. Shall I warn the wife about the vomiting?” Tal stood and gathered her things from the table.
“I doubt she would invite him to her own bed, but yes, I would recommend it.”
Tal nodded. “I’ll ask Septimus for another crate of the healing elixir,” she said, exhaustion dripping from every word.
In light of recent events, she would probably need to ask for two.
While the problems of men filled her pockets, they emptied them at an equal rate.
She wondered if the world would be better off if she burned it all to the ground.
There was no clearer indication of an alchemist’s skill than the color of their wares, and Tal’s alchemist sold only the most vibrant solutions.
She stood at the long wooden counter in the small shop and eyed the cubicles filled with jars of every color liquid and cream.
There were no labels, but Septimus, a scrawny old man with a long gray beard tucked into his belt, grabbed a vial off the shelf without hesitation and placed it on the wooden counter with a solid thunk.
The single gulp of yellow liquid swirled with bits of red.
A glint at the top of the wall caught her eye. A small jar held a sparkly gel, the blue color like the far end of a sunset where the day finally accepted its fate and succumbed to the darkness of night. “That one’s new.”
Without turning around, the alchemist said, “Aconitum. Highly poisonous. I’ve created a jelly-like paste that delays onset of symptoms for twelve hours, but death is delayed for at least twenty-four.
It mimics consumption and dysentery. Great for secret assassinations.
Tastes like licorice. Any amount ingested will kill the target, but not before the twenty-fourth hour.
The smaller the dose, the more painful and drawn out the death. ”
“How do you know what it tastes like?”
Septimus blinked at her.
“Sounds lovely. I’ll take that and half a dozen healing elixirs.”
“Gracious me!” He gasped and placed a hand on his heart. “You and I have a longstanding agreement not to impede on the other’s business, but what bounty of yours deserves such a gruesome death?”
“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and pocketed the Emetikos, not questioning how the old man knew she needed it for a bounty. “How many doses will he need?”
“Just the one. I do not sell weak mixtures here.”
“Then how do you explain my hair and eyes?”
Septimus sighed, exasperation dripping from his tone.
“My dear, I sell all manner of wares that can make your dreams come true or be your worst nightmare. But I do not suppress magic, certainly not fury like yours. If you wish to be rid of the effects of such power, you will need to learn to control it and not let it control you. Now, I have something else for your eyes, but you won’t like it. ”
Tal narrowed her aforementioned eyes at him. She never revealed that she had magic, let alone that she had fury. If he shared her secret, Tal would be in grave danger.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” He wagged a finger at her.
“I’ve known about you since the first time you entered my shop, and I haven’t uttered a word of you, your specialty, or your raggedy crew to anyone.
” He turned and hummed, packaging the healing elixirs, including a small jar with a dropper of warm brown dye for her irises.
She watched the man closely but saw no sign to indicate a lie. Her payment scraped the counter when she pushed it toward him.
“A pleasure as always, Miss Talwyn,” he said as he pocketed the coin and then disappeared behind a door in the back.
Tal stashed the glass vials in a satchel over her shoulder and returned to the tunnels, anticipating the ice-like sting Septimus warned would accompany the new formula for her eye color.
Evania and Janin fell asleep early that evening, and everyone joined together in the common area.
A plate of jerky sat on the crate-turned-table.
Rainier lay across a pile of hay and blankets while Egan and Carrick kicked a hard ball back and forth.
Sybil sharpened her knives in the corner, a frown on her face.
“Septimus knows about my magic.” Talwyn sat cross-legged on the floor, sewing a patch into one of her shirts.
All activity halted.
Carrick’s shoulders hunched against the tension filling his muscles. “Is he going to be a threat?”
Sybil tapped her head. “He’s on our side, for now.”
“How long has he known?” Rain asked.
“No idea, but he says I need to control it, or it’ll burn right through his formulas.”
“Then we work on controlling it.” Sybil didn’t look up from her weapon.
“Isn’t that what she’s been doing?” Egan stopped the ball when Carrick kicked it to him.
“Apparently not enough.” Tal sighed. “I’m not sure what more I can do.”
“You continue to train,” Rainier said. “I think the warnings about madness in Sybil’s vision alone is enough to prove how necessary it is.”
“I’m not going to go mad,” Tal grumbled to herself as she set her sewing aside and pulled a strip of leather out of her pocket.
She placed it in front of her, and everyone returned to their tasks.
While she attempted to ignite the strip with her magic, the effort sapped her energy with each strike.
She warred between frustration and reassurance, knowing each attempt built a tolerance.
“Try not to grasp the magic. Let it flow through you.” The metal of Sybil’s knife scraped across the whetstone.
Tal ran a hand through her hair. “What does that even mean?”
Rain rested his elbows on his knees. “You’re thinking too much of your magic like something within you. Imagine it’s a part of you. When you want to use your fury, it’s as easy as lifting your hand, as easy as breathing.”
She paused and considered his words, reluctant to let go of the hold she had on her magic.
Then, with the words “part of me” repeating in her head, she took a deep breath, imagining it flowing through her like her own blood and forced it out quickly.
A stream of fire appeared two paces from her mouth and careened toward the leather.
It blasted into the fabric, incinerating it in place.
The stream continued across the small space, setting fire to hay and blankets alike.
Rain yelped and rolled off the burning pile while Carrick and Egan jumped into action stamping out the flames. Sybil didn’t do so much as look up from her seat on the opposite wall. Frustrated, Talwyn swore at herself, slapping at a half-burned blanket.
“That’s new.” Rainier winced and smacked an ember off his trousers.
“You breathed fire!” Egan exclaimed, putting out the last flame and coming to stand beside Talwyn. “Do it again!”
“Absolutely not!” Talwyn asserted, aghast. She would set fire to the lot of them if she tried again.
“Come on! That was incredible!”
“It could prove pretty useful in a fight.” Rain nodded with approval, but edged his way to the room’s exit, destroying all of Tal’s self-confidence. Sybil sat yet unmoved while Carrick came to Tal’s other side.
“Not here. I don’t think we can afford to keep replacing blankets.” Tal considered the Kiln, but she didn’t want to get too far from the children.