bothered.
"You
know how it smells, when a potion's right. Better than I do."
Nicia's enthusiasm waned slightly. She rallied with, "I'm going
to practice, though!"
" You smelled something on that man's breath." The sharpness, just as
it'd been in her tea, cold against the back of her tongue –
but so faint, like a memory. "That's got to be promising."
Nicia
opened a door, revealing stairs down, as wide and whitewashed as the
walls. "Oh, it is. Mother's not tested my tolerances much, and
says mayhap in a year's time, but . . . I hope they're
strong!"
Kessa
followed the bubbly apprentice down. "You do?"
"Well, yes . It'd be safer for me to test potions, and research new
elixirs. The most innovative alchemists almost always have high
tolerances, or full immunity." Nicia finally gave Kessa a look
with backbone. "Didn't your teacher tell you?"
"Not . . .
clearly." Mayhap it explained some of Maila's demands. Kessa
made herself smile. "Herbsman Chiftia's not terribly orthodox
anymore."
"Oh.
I'm sorry." Nicia busied herself with opening the door at the
bottom of the stairs.
"It's
all right. I know the recipes well enough that Master Rom approved my
practice anyway." Kessa looked around, careful not to raise her
eyes too far.
The
basement was larger than the building above, judging from the
placement of support beams and pillars. The walls were white, lathe
and plaster over whatever was behind them. Perhaps bricks mortared
with grandmothers' blood, for all Kessa knew. The lights were glow– Incandescens Stones, hanging in baskets with metal plates
above them to reflect the light in diffuse brightness, much like in
Master Rom's workroom. There were fireplaces on opposite walls to
heat large vats of simmering brews, and two of the tables were slabs
of stone. Cabinets of ingredients and equipment stood against the
walls. A half-dozen apprentices and journeymen watched over the vats,
prepared ingredients, and ladeled healing-glop into jars. Alembics
and glass measuring cups were plentiful, as were little measuring
scales. There was even an alchemical geometry analyzer, with wheels
and gears to describe the symbolic shapes of the metal-salts and how
they should react together.
"Impressive,"
Kessa said, because it was. Since no bundles of herbs hung from the
rafters, she asked, "Do you have ingredients brought in? Or is
there a drying room upstairs?"
"Both,"
Nicia replied, obviously happy to brag about her workplace. "There's
also a closet with a window, for moon-steeping, and another where the
Incandescens Stones are changed before they start to fade, so the
room's always lit and components can be sun-steeped in the day."
"It's
practically a researcher's workroom," Kessa marveled. "I'd
thought the hospice would only make the usual healing brews, and
mayhap a few special preparations."
"That's
what most of this is," Nicia admitted. "But sometimes we
need something very unusual, or one of the masters wants to
try increasing the effects of healing preparations. I'm told the
guild offices have an even better basement, where they do research
constantly, and some of the masters have special night-rooms that
attempt to focus starlight through lenses when the moon isn't in the
sky at all."
Kessa
tilted her head, puzzled. "But . . . The moon is
change and cycles, and the sun is steady fire. What point would it be
to use starlight alone? They guide, but how can one use guiding in a
potion?"
"I
know; Mother thinks it's a waste of time, but I suppose it's worth
trying, to see what one might get."
"They'd
have to taste when something'd been properly primed." Kessa
couldn't think of any other way to tell if their experiment had
failed or succeeded.
There
was a little pause before Nicia said, voice lowered, "You can do that?"
The Yes didn't reach her tongue. "Surely Master Kymus can."
"I
wonder if it's because he's fully immune," Nicia said, "or
if it's just that no one else could survive tasting enough
things to learn if
"You
know how it smells, when a potion's right. Better than I do."
Nicia's enthusiasm waned slightly. She rallied with, "I'm going
to practice, though!"
" You smelled something on that man's breath." The sharpness, just as
it'd been in her tea, cold against the back of her tongue –
but so faint, like a memory. "That's got to be promising."
Nicia
opened a door, revealing stairs down, as wide and whitewashed as the
walls. "Oh, it is. Mother's not tested my tolerances much, and
says mayhap in a year's time, but . . . I hope they're
strong!"
Kessa
followed the bubbly apprentice down. "You do?"
"Well, yes . It'd be safer for me to test potions, and research new
elixirs. The most innovative alchemists almost always have high
tolerances, or full immunity." Nicia finally gave Kessa a look
with backbone. "Didn't your teacher tell you?"
"Not . . .
clearly." Mayhap it explained some of Maila's demands. Kessa
made herself smile. "Herbsman Chiftia's not terribly orthodox
anymore."
"Oh.
I'm sorry." Nicia busied herself with opening the door at the
bottom of the stairs.
"It's
all right. I know the recipes well enough that Master Rom approved my
practice anyway." Kessa looked around, careful not to raise her
eyes too far.
The
basement was larger than the building above, judging from the
placement of support beams and pillars. The walls were white, lathe
and plaster over whatever was behind them. Perhaps bricks mortared
with grandmothers' blood, for all Kessa knew. The lights were glow– Incandescens Stones, hanging in baskets with metal plates
above them to reflect the light in diffuse brightness, much like in
Master Rom's workroom. There were fireplaces on opposite walls to
heat large vats of simmering brews, and two of the tables were slabs
of stone. Cabinets of ingredients and equipment stood against the
walls. A half-dozen apprentices and journeymen watched over the vats,
prepared ingredients, and ladeled healing-glop into jars. Alembics
and glass measuring cups were plentiful, as were little measuring
scales. There was even an alchemical geometry analyzer, with wheels
and gears to describe the symbolic shapes of the metal-salts and how
they should react together.
"Impressive,"
Kessa said, because it was. Since no bundles of herbs hung from the
rafters, she asked, "Do you have ingredients brought in? Or is
there a drying room upstairs?"
"Both,"
Nicia replied, obviously happy to brag about her workplace. "There's
also a closet with a window, for moon-steeping, and another where the
Incandescens Stones are changed before they start to fade, so the
room's always lit and components can be sun-steeped in the day."
"It's
practically a researcher's workroom," Kessa marveled. "I'd
thought the hospice would only make the usual healing brews, and
mayhap a few special preparations."
"That's
what most of this is," Nicia admitted. "But sometimes we
need something very unusual, or one of the masters wants to
try increasing the effects of healing preparations. I'm told the
guild offices have an even better basement, where they do research
constantly, and some of the masters have special night-rooms that
attempt to focus starlight through lenses when the moon isn't in the
sky at all."
Kessa
tilted her head, puzzled. "But . . . The moon is
change and cycles, and the sun is steady fire. What point would it be
to use starlight alone? They guide, but how can one use guiding in a
potion?"
"I
know; Mother thinks it's a waste of time, but I suppose it's worth
trying, to see what one might get."
"They'd
have to taste when something'd been properly primed." Kessa
couldn't think of any other way to tell if their experiment had
failed or succeeded.
There
was a little pause before Nicia said, voice lowered, "You can do that?"
The Yes didn't reach her tongue. "Surely Master Kymus can."
"I
wonder if it's because he's fully immune," Nicia said, "or
if it's just that no one else could survive tasting enough
things to learn if
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