Mistress of the Night by Don Bassingthwaite, Dave Gross Page B
Authors: Don Bassingthwaite, Dave Gross
Ads: Link
Bolan. In contrast to the eerie perfection of his face, the alchemist's fingers were stained yellow and purple-black. He plucked Quick out of Keph's grasp and held her up, examining not the blade as a swordsman might, but rather the metal itself. After a moment, he grunted, then took the tip of the rapier between rough fingers and flexed the blade. Keph winced.
Bolan's dark eyes shot to him immediately.
"Too concerned with material things," he said. "Illusion. The Lady of Loss teaches otherwise."
He flexed Quick several more times, watching him closely. Keph struggled to keep his expression neutral. .
Bolan shrugged and said, "You'll learn."
He tossed the rapier back at Keph, who started to reach for it then snatched his hand back out of the way of the tumbling blade. Quick clattered to the floor. He scooped it upand found Bolan nodding.
"Sensible enough to know when you could be hurt." His eyes glittered and he asked, "If your rapier had been falling into a pool of acid, would you have tried to catch it?"
He's testing me, Keph realized. For a heartbeat, rage at being manipulated flashed through him. He held it in check, forcing his face and his eyes to remain calm. Bolan's fine eyebrows arched slightly.
"Well?" he asked. "Would you risk injury to save your sword from destruction?"
If he said yes, it would contradict Bolan's comment that material things weren't important. But no seemed too obvious an answer as well.
"That depends," Keph said finally, "on whether I needed it to defend myself."
Bolan's eyebrows rose higher. Keph waited for an answer. The alchemist, however, didn't give him one. He just turned and stepped back to the curtained doorway.
"Come through," he said, holding the curtain aside as Keph stepped past him.
The mineral smell was even stronger beyond the doorway, the hot stink of a burning furnace underlying it. On shadowy shelves around the room boxes, bins, and jars peered down. A variety of heavy glassware was meticulously arranged on a long, marble-topped workbench. A low rack held books. Keph couldn't help but think of Roderio's laboratory. He froze, the image of his brother's burned facenow bandaged and healing after the attentions of priestswashing over him.
"Ah," said Bolan from behind him. "How insensitive of me. This room must have unpleasant resonances for you."
Keph turned around. Bolan was watching him. So, from behind the alchemist, was Jarull. His friend must have told Bolan about Roderio's accident.
"No," Keph said firmly, hardening his heart. "Nothing unpleasant at all."
Bolan's flawless face didn't shift, but somehow he managed to convey the impression of a prankster disappointed at the failure of a trick. He gestured with his stained fingers, summoning Keph back.
"Do you know where Wedge Street is?" Bolan asked. When Keph nodded he continued, "There's an alley off its north side. Wait there at full dark after sunset tomorrow night." The alchemist swept an arm toward the door to the street. "You can go now."
They were back in the bright heat of the afternoon before Keph even had time to blink. Squinting against the sudden glare, he twisted around just in time to see the door slam behind them. He looked up at Jarull. The big man was smiling grimly.
"Good job," he said. "It isn't easy to rattle Bolan."
Keph rubbed his eyes and said, "Jarull, was that what I think it was?"
Jarull nodded. "An invitation."
Down the street, the old men were staring at them again.
Jarull led Keph away from Bolan's house, strolling more casually, as if pleased that his friend had met with the alchemist's approval. Keph took a last look over his shoulder.
"That was... faster than I expected."
"Bolan isn't a patient man," Jarull replied.
"That's not what I mean," Keph said. "I thought it would take some time before the offer was even extended. You just told me about the cult a few days ago!"
Jarull was silent for several paces, then said, "Maybe it has something to do with Cyrume's
Bolan's dark eyes shot to him immediately.
"Too concerned with material things," he said. "Illusion. The Lady of Loss teaches otherwise."
He flexed Quick several more times, watching him closely. Keph struggled to keep his expression neutral. .
Bolan shrugged and said, "You'll learn."
He tossed the rapier back at Keph, who started to reach for it then snatched his hand back out of the way of the tumbling blade. Quick clattered to the floor. He scooped it upand found Bolan nodding.
"Sensible enough to know when you could be hurt." His eyes glittered and he asked, "If your rapier had been falling into a pool of acid, would you have tried to catch it?"
He's testing me, Keph realized. For a heartbeat, rage at being manipulated flashed through him. He held it in check, forcing his face and his eyes to remain calm. Bolan's fine eyebrows arched slightly.
"Well?" he asked. "Would you risk injury to save your sword from destruction?"
If he said yes, it would contradict Bolan's comment that material things weren't important. But no seemed too obvious an answer as well.
"That depends," Keph said finally, "on whether I needed it to defend myself."
Bolan's eyebrows rose higher. Keph waited for an answer. The alchemist, however, didn't give him one. He just turned and stepped back to the curtained doorway.
"Come through," he said, holding the curtain aside as Keph stepped past him.
The mineral smell was even stronger beyond the doorway, the hot stink of a burning furnace underlying it. On shadowy shelves around the room boxes, bins, and jars peered down. A variety of heavy glassware was meticulously arranged on a long, marble-topped workbench. A low rack held books. Keph couldn't help but think of Roderio's laboratory. He froze, the image of his brother's burned facenow bandaged and healing after the attentions of priestswashing over him.
"Ah," said Bolan from behind him. "How insensitive of me. This room must have unpleasant resonances for you."
Keph turned around. Bolan was watching him. So, from behind the alchemist, was Jarull. His friend must have told Bolan about Roderio's accident.
"No," Keph said firmly, hardening his heart. "Nothing unpleasant at all."
Bolan's flawless face didn't shift, but somehow he managed to convey the impression of a prankster disappointed at the failure of a trick. He gestured with his stained fingers, summoning Keph back.
"Do you know where Wedge Street is?" Bolan asked. When Keph nodded he continued, "There's an alley off its north side. Wait there at full dark after sunset tomorrow night." The alchemist swept an arm toward the door to the street. "You can go now."
They were back in the bright heat of the afternoon before Keph even had time to blink. Squinting against the sudden glare, he twisted around just in time to see the door slam behind them. He looked up at Jarull. The big man was smiling grimly.
"Good job," he said. "It isn't easy to rattle Bolan."
Keph rubbed his eyes and said, "Jarull, was that what I think it was?"
Jarull nodded. "An invitation."
Down the street, the old men were staring at them again.
Jarull led Keph away from Bolan's house, strolling more casually, as if pleased that his friend had met with the alchemist's approval. Keph took a last look over his shoulder.
"That was... faster than I expected."
"Bolan isn't a patient man," Jarull replied.
"That's not what I mean," Keph said. "I thought it would take some time before the offer was even extended. You just told me about the cult a few days ago!"
Jarull was silent for several paces, then said, "Maybe it has something to do with Cyrume's
Similar Books
