The scent of night air clung to the alchemist’s silkgarments, a delicate note amid the chorus of sandalwood and herbsperfuming them.
“You were out walking,” she said. “Did you run intoFox and Delgar? They went out looking for you a couple of hoursago.”
Avidan turned toward her. His face, backlit by thesoft sunrise glow coming from the mirror, was haggard and drawn,twisted with emotions she understood all too well.
“You do not sleep. I envy you.”
She did not require an explanation. Her oneexperience with dreams was nothing she cared to repeat.
“I’ve completed the research you requested,” shesaid. “There are many descriptions of what Muldonny’s liquidweapons can do, but very little about how they are made.”
Avidan dismissed this with a flick of his fingers.“Give it to Fox. The information may be of use to him.”
Before Honor’s astonishment had a chance to turn toindignation, he added, “The solution you requested is ready totest.”
He strode from the room without waiting for herresponse. Honor trotted to his side and fell into step.
They made their way to Avidan’s workroom withoutfurther speech. He placed a small glass beaker on his table andpushed it toward her. Beside the beaker he placed a small, sharpknife.
Honor used it to make a shallow cut on her wrist. Sheheld it over the beaker and let the blood drop into thecontainer.
After a few moments Avidan nodded. “That issufficient.”
She took the strip of cloth he handed her. While shewrapped her wrist, Avidan inserted a thin glass tube into thebeaker.
A narrow crimson thread rose toward his hand as bloodflowed up the tube.
“Capillary action,” Avidan said. “Liquid will flowupward in a narrow opening.”
She tipped her head toward the vase of wild carrotblossoms, now nearly as red as the liquid in the vial. “Just likein the meadow flowers.”
“Precisely.”
“And the solution you made will react with my bloodeven when it’s dry?”
“Wait and see.”
Honor watched as the thin line crept toward the topof the tube. A faint glow dawned in the heart of the tiny bulb.
“Enough?” Avidan asked.
The elf shook her head. “I need a more dramaticeffect.”
“A stronger solution is possible, but dangerous. Itwould become unstable when combined with blood.”
“That’s not a deterrent,” Honor said. “If you cangive me a few seconds, I’ll make it work.”
Avidan studied her as if he were beholding her forthe first time. “You are placing a great deal of confidence in theability of a madman.”
She took a few moments to choose her words. “SupposeI was offered two swords and told to pick one to take into battle.One of these swords new and gleaming and perfect, the other nickedand dulled through countless battles yet strong enough to hold anedge. Which do you think I would choose?”
“The analogy does not hold. I am no elven blade.”
“You,” she said firmly, “are beyond doubt thestrongest and sanest man I have ever met. Anyone else would haveshattered long ago.”
The alchemist’s gaze dropped to the beaker of blood.A long moment passed. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes heldclarity, determination, and an expression that Honor had only seenturned upon her sister the queen.
“For that-”
He broke off, shook his head, and began again. “Foryou, I would craft a substance that can turn the night skyto flame.”
Fox spent the night in fitful slumber, waking upagain and again from dreams that explored ways tomorrow’senterprise could go awry. Somehow he doubted a single night wassufficient to cover all possibilities.
Long before sunrise, he gave up any attempt at sleepand sought out Avidan. The alchemist was already awake and at work.A faint red glow came from a small beaker on the table.
“Working on a new source of light for thetunnels?”
Avidan looked up, a thoughtful expression on hisface. “That might be a useful application. I suppose we could makea deal with that butcher on Redcloak for supplies.”
Fox grimaced. “I don’t want to know. Ready topractice?”
They spent the next two hours going over signals,memorizing questions, running scenarios that might occur and howbest to deal with each. The trip to Stormwall Island occupiedseveral hours more, but shortly after midday Fox and Avidanpresented themselves at the gate to Muldonny’s domain.
The adept was famous for using only clockwork guardsand servants within his inner walls, but a small battalion of armedmen patrolled the outer bailey.
A grizzled old soldier took the papers Avidanproffered and gave the alchemist and his servant carefulscrutiny.
Fox was reasonably certain they would passinspection. Avidan looked the part of a visiting Veldoonialchemist. He’d even cut his hair, which greatly increased hisresemblance to Shavin Insa’amid. Fox wore clothes he’d removed froma tinsmith’s clothesline-simple garments of good but middlingquality, such as might be expected in an important man’s servant.Avidan’s unguents covered the bruises on Fox’s face and darkenedhis skin to a hue nearly approaching the alchemist’s. He’d darkenedhis red hair with a black dye that Avidan swore, and Fox dearlyhoped, was temporary.
The guard waved them through and pointed them to thevisitor’s entrance.
As they walked through the bailey, Fox kept up asteady stream of last-minute instructions.
“You’re sure you remember the signs.”
“Do not concern yourself. My memory has been trainedto retain copious amounts of information.”
“Copious. That’s good,” Fox murmured as he scannedthe courtyard. “What do you do if I scratch my ear?”
Avidan sighed. “I stop talking about the subjectcurrently under discussion.”
“What if I touch my mouth?”
“Then I am to echo what the speaker said, in a mannerlikely to encourage him to continue in that vein. In short, I am toelicit more information.”
Fox nodded. “The host gift is offered after you’vehad the wine or tea or whatever Muldonny offers. Not before.”
“And if I find the refreshments insufficientrecompense for the gifts?”
To Fox’s astonishment, the alchemist wore a wrysmile.
“Was that a joke?”
“Not a successful one, apparently.”
“Huh.” Fox studied the alchemist. “You look. .better.”
“Than what?”
“Usual.”
Avidan shrugged. “It is good from time to time toremember who you once were.”
Thanks to his resemblance to the Veldooni alchemist,Fox had a pretty good idea what that was. It shamed him a littlethat he’d never thought to inquire into Avidan’s history. He’dassumed that the alchemist was one of many students driven mad bythe study, and that he’d found his way into the tunnels fleeing theinevitable result of not conforming to the adept’s vision ofSevrin. That, in and of itself, had been reason enough for Fox toaccept Avidan into his inner circle.
But now his curiosity was aroused.
“As for protocol,” he said in a casual tone, “justfollow whatever rules the Veldooni go by. Do you rememberthese?”
“Yes.”
An unspoken “Of course!” resounded through thealchemist’s terse response.
“You looking so much like this Shavin Insa’amid is afortunate coincidence.”
“Fortunate, perhaps. A coincidence, almost certainlynot.”
They came to a stop before the second gate. Anotherhuman guard checked Avidan’s papers and his letter of invitationbefore unlocking the gate and turning them over to the clockworkguard.
To Fox’s eyes, the design of Muldonny’s guardsrecalled an earlier era. Unlike Rhendish, whose clockworkconstructs looked more and more like humans with each newinnovation, the Adept of Stormwall Island surrounded himself withmachines that resembled armored knights of centuries past.
They followed the animated knight into the fortressand down a corridor that opened into a grand hall. Muldonny bustledforward to meet them.
Vishni’s description of Muldonny as a human squirrelhit very near the mark. His gray robe draped his pot belly andequally broad posterior. It reached below his knees, making hisshort legs appear even shorter. A jittery energy surrounded thelittle man, and his large dark eyes darted here and there as ifexpecting to see a lurking cat or the shadow of a giant raptor.