Chapter 14: Corvyne and the Alchemist

It was the time of the afternoon when most people went indoors, or to the city park, or the baths, and so Market Street was quiet. Many of the stalls were closed, but Corvyne had not come to shop. Tarkan examined an amulet, turning it delicately in his palm, while the bored shopkeeper silently sized up Corvyne's wealth.

"What do you think of it?" Tarkan asked.

"It's a bit garish." Corvyne answered, paying little attention. He had intended his comment only as the customary opening volley in the game of the marketplace, but the young Rider put the jewelry back quickly, and looked hurt.

"Which one do you like?" Tarkan asked, pouting slightly.

Corvyne bent over the counter with little interest and examined the wares over the rims of his glasses. Tarkan stood behind him, arms crossed. Corvyne selected a twisted silver circle on a delicate chain.

"This one is well done, and the symbol is a powerful one."

"Tell me about it." Tarkan said, tossing his dark curls out of his eyes.

"A circle is endless and complete, and can never lose its energy. A band has two sides, which are united by the twist, see?"

Corvyne ran his finger around the band of metal to demonstrate how both sides were the same. Tarkan reached out to run his finger over the band and Corvyne handed it to him.

The Seer adjusted his glasses and explained, "The symbol represents unity and boundless energy that can never grow stagnant."

Corvyne considered the Rider's remarkable journey, to Imiatt and back before the turn of a full cycle. Boundless energy, indeed.

Tarkan took the amulet. "It's perfect."

"That's what the philosophers say."

"Will you buy it for me?"

Corvyne sighed, and said, "I suppose… though your enthusiasm has ruined my chance of getting a fair price."

The shopkeeper smiled wryly and named an outrageous price.

"Luckily, I'm perfectly willing to disappoint you," Corvyne said, as he took the piece of jewelry from Tarkan's hands and set it on the counter.

"Come." Corvyne turned to walk away. The shopkeeper stopped him with a new figure. "I'll give you half of that." Corvyne was impatient for this whole episode to be over. He had little interest in the market, but he felt that he should be circumspect on his way to Crowley’s shop, so he put on the facade of a casual shopper and made his way slowly toward his destination. He needed to know what the Rider Tarkan had learned in Imiatt, and for that he had to convene the Council. The most important decision the Seer would make depended on this knowledge. The Emperor’s betrothal was Corvyne’s decision to make, and the entire Empire had been waiting three years for his decision. Now the time had come.

The Astrologies indicated a time of great change, with protracted waxing in nearly every house. That meant a time of danger, but also great opportunity. It meant that the rituals would need to be observed meticulously, so that nothing was obscured or misinterpreted. With all of this weighing on his mind, Corvyne led Tarkan slowly through the market, playing a charade of browsing and shopping, waiting for anything that felt amiss, and hoping that the boy knew the rituals well enough to fulfill his role.

As one of the leading Imperial officials, Corvyne should have insisted on paying in scrip, but he did not have the patience to try to convince the merchant to take paper payment, so he counted out a handful of small coins on the counter. Tarkan took the necklace and put it on.

As they turned to go, Tarkan jumped and looked over his shoulder. Corvyne turned with him, but there was nothing to see. The Rider was as uneasy as Corvyne. Corvyne squeezed the boy’s shoulder. Corvyne was reasonably certain they were not being followed, but now their nerves threatened to draw attention to them. They were not far from their destination. Corvyne thanked the shopkeeper and set a new pace, moving quickly through the market. Behind them, nobody seemed to notice.

They went out onto the Street of Fools, which felt subdued in the heat and anticipation of the evening's revelry. An old woman sat by the entrance to Lower Market holding a rheumy-eyed bear cub on a short chain. She shook a bag at them as they passed and kicked an earthen bowl with a few coins in it.

"Feed the Emperor a peanut," she said to them, her eyes not quite comprehending the world around her.

Once they turned onto Lower Market, they were besieged by men and women showing off their wares. Corvyne was not dressed as a noble, but the sellers on Lower Market had an uncanny ability to size up wealth. They pressed on a short distance before turning down a dead end alley, where they were sized up indelicately by a pair of whores leaning against the blackened brick walls.

"I want that one," one of the whores said, leering at Tarkan. She was still young and pretty, and that made the expression all the more ugly on her. Tarkan took a step back in alarm and she laughed.

"You can have the one with the firm ass," the other whore said. The years had taken their toll on her, and she tried to hide it with powder. She reached out to touch Corvyne’s chest, and said, "I'll take the one with the heavy purse."

"Good afternoon to you, ladies," Corvyne said with sincerity that seemed to startle the women, and he pulled Tarkan past them to a battered door beneath a worn, but meticulously lettered, sign reading "Apothecary and Alchemist, Inquire Within."

Corvyne pounded on the door several times. The women had lost interest in them. Corvyne cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. A long moment passed and Tarkan was looking back the way they came when the door jerked open. A slight old man with unkempt hair and crooked spectacles stared at Corvyne, then at Tarkan, and then walked away, leaving the door open behind him. A cat darted into the shop under Corvyne's feet. When Tarkan was inside, Corvyne turned and threw the bolt on the door.

The old man had gone to stand behind a scarred oaken counter. It was hard to say whether the counter was askew, or the rest of the room. There was no wall in the dark, dusty, room that was not packed with shelves and cubby holes from the floor to the ceiling, every one packed with books and scrolls, decanters and vials, and all manners of strange materials, organic and mineral. At the man's left hand was a massive scale, delicate for an object of its size, and a fantastic jumble of weights and measures, some so fine that they were kept in a cup along with a pair of tweezers. At his right hand slept a small cat, slightly bedraggled but content in dusty shaft of light that made its way through the gap where the shutters did not quite meet the wall. Everywhere else in the room there were more cats, in the cubby holes and atop the shelves, on the window sill, scratching at the door, and rubbing against the man's leg.

Tarkan took in the scene thirstily and quietly.

"Good afternoon, Seer," the old alchemist said, in a scratchy voice.

"Hello, Crowley. Let me introduce you to the Rider Tarkan."

"Good afternoon to you, Rider."

"...and to you, Sir." Tarkan inclined his head to the man, who did not appear so old up close, in spite of his dense tangles of dry white hair.

"What can I do for you today, Corvyne?" Crowley scratched the kitten's head absent-mindedly as he spoke.

"We must convene the Council."

When Corvyne said this, Crowley looked sharply at Tarkan. He raised his eyebrows at Corvyne, but nodded and went to his shelves, moving back and forth among them with awkward but self-assured movements, taking pinches here and there and crumbling them into a censer. He placed a blackened brazier on the counter and blew the coals to life. As the censer grew hot, a sweet smelling smoke began to fill the room, and Crowley began to speak words that Tarkan did not know. One by one, the cats in the room began to look up, stand and stretch, and turn their eyes toward Crowley, who stirred the smoking mixture with his finger and continued to mutter. Tarkan watched, wide-eyed, as the cats all assembled near the door. Corvyne stood by the door with his hand on the latch. Crowley's speech gathered intensity, and the largest of the cats looked up at Corvyne, who opened the door. The cats all ran out at once, blinking in the sunlight, and then scattering in every direction, earning odd looks from the whores down the street.

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