by Kristen Brand
in Issue 81, October 2018
The alchemist trudged into the tavern, stopping to scrape the snow off his boots. He was almost too tired to bother, but his manners beat his exhaustion in a contest of strength. The others waved from their regular table in the back, and the alchemist slogged over to them, shrugging off his heavy cloak and collapsing into a chair.
“How’s the kid?” asked the sorceress Acacia.
“Mead first.” The alchemist pulled off his thick gloves. “Talk second.”
The barmaid brought warm mead, which the alchemist gulped down. The tavern was nearly empty. The merchants who usually led long caravans through town had taken one look at the snowfall this time of year and said, “No, thanks. We’ll take winters off.” Besides the crackling of the fire in the fireplace and the creaks and groans of the old wooden structure, the establishment was silent.
The alchemist set down his tankard and exhaled, feeling much better now that he was off his feet and had drunk something. “The kid won’t shut up. I’m starting to think someone might have cursed him so that he’ll die if he doesn’t complain every five minutes. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“They’re a whiny generation, aren’t they?” Acacia agreed.
“I just don’t understand.” The alchemist leaned back. “He used to be a farmboy. A farmboy, for the gods’ sake. Farming is back-breaking work, but he groans like the damned when I make him read or write formulae. Surely he couldn’t get away with all that whining back on the farm. His family would have beaten him.”
“At least he does what you tell him despite the whining,” grumbled Sezud, a grizzled ranger with a weatherworn face full of scars. “I tell my apprentice to practice his sword forms for two hours, and he spends that time skipping rocks at the lake with his friends. I shouldn’t have to waste my time standing over him to make sure he follows instructions. He should know the more he practices, the less likely he is to get stabbed by a bandit some dark night, but he has no concept of short-term sacrifice for long-term gain.”
“They have no concept of consequences, period,” said Acacia, causing a grumble of agreement around the table.
“The parents are to blame—at least partially.” Captain Melgref of the Queen’s Guard, a towering woman with dark dreadlocks, took a swig of ale. “Queen Velnere keeps the princess so sheltered that the girl has no clue how to handle hardship. She has no patience, no stamina, and no problem-solving skills. It’s going to be a nightmare when she takes the throne.”
“I don’t envy her.” The alchemist pulled out his pipe and lit it. “The boy is convinced he’s in love with her despite never having exchanged so much as a ‘hello.’ All he does is stare at her when he thinks she isn’t looking. That’s not romantic—it’s disturbing!”
“At least he’s not lusting after the enemy.” Acacia waved over the barmaid for a refill, her bracelets jingling. “My dear pupil is convinced the Dark Prince Azorral is just misunderstood.” The sorceress huffed. “As if that pale, murderous little jerk is worth pining over. Gods, she could do so much better.”
The alchemist puffed on his pipe as the barmaid poured refills all around. He still felt weary to the bone, but he’d gotten some of his energy back. It wouldn’t last, though. All too soon, he’d have to return, and he just knew he’d find the boy had only completed half the work he should have. And it would be so sloppy that the alchemist would have to make him rewrite it.
He felt as if he’d tried everything by now. Nothing seemed to get through to the boy.
“When I was young, my master didn’t have to tell me to practice formulae,” he grumbled. “I woke two hours early every day to study—before preparing his cauldron and ingredients and doing the cooking, cleaning, and all his other errands. I knew the value of an education.”
“Kids today are spoiled and weak,” said Melgref. “Can you imagine what they’d do if they had to face dragons like in our day?”
“Probably piss themselves in fear,” said Sezud, getting a chuckle out of them all.
Yes, the current generation was fortunate they didn’t have to face the horrors the alchemist and his friends used to fight. Truly, it was a different time—one the alchemist wasn’t sure he belonged in anymore.
He exhaled smoke with a sigh. “I sometimes wonder why we bother.”
Acacia snorted. “Yeah, I can’t see that boy of yours becoming a master alchemist anytime soon.”
The alchemist lowered his pipe, the mead souring in his stomach. Exhaling a harsh puff of smoke, he straightened up. “Now hold on a moment. The boy’s a capable student. He just lacks confidence. When he doesn’t give up before he’s even started, he does amazing work.”
Acacia opened her to mouth to apologize, but Sezud spoke first.
“My apprentice is the same. All that raw talent. It’ll be a tragic waste if I don’t help him hone it.”
“And the princess isn’t a bad kid,” Melgref grunted. “She wants to do the right thing. It’s not like she can help the way she was raised. You should have seen the way her eyes lit up when I showed her how to hold a sword.”
“My pupil has the potential to be the most powerful sorceress of her generation,” Acacia put in quickly. “If I can just keep her from making stupid mistakes…”
She stared darkly into her cup of mead while the alchemist sucked on his pipe. Silence reigned for almost a full minute, everyone wrapped up in their own thoughts and concerns.
“Anyone have plans for the ice festival?” Sezud asked after a while.
The conversation strayed to other topics, and the alchemist enjoyed the respite. It was nice to talk about something other than their worries for a while. He chatted with his old friends for nearly an hour before he could no longer ignore the sinking sun outside.
The alchemist put out his pipe and drained the rest of his mead in three quick gulps. “Time to get back to work.”
A reluctant murmur of agreement filled the air. Chairs scraped against the wooden floor as everyone stood and tossed copper coins onto the table.
Sezud rested his gloved hand on the hilt of his sword, his scarred lips twisting into a smile. “Perhaps I’ll surprise the slacker with a sparring session when I return.”
“All I know is that if I see that Azorral brat sniffing around my tower, someone’s going to get hexed.” Acacia pulled up the hood of her cloak and swept out the door.
The alchemist fumbled with his gloves and cloak before trudging after her. His steps were slow and heavy as he left the warmth of the tavern and began the long trek home. The good cheer from the mead and conversation swiftly vanished, and he shivered as his boots crunched over the snow.
When he flung open the thick wooden door of his abode, his apprentice jerked and nearly fell out of his chair. The boy gave him a wide-eyed, guilty stare before seizing his quill and bending over his parchment. The alchemist would bet an entire chest of gold that he’d been daydreaming, but he didn’t scold him. He leisurely removed his coat and gloves, letting the room’s warmth soak into his skin while the boy stewed in nervousness.
Finally, the alchemist strode to the table and held out his hand. Shoulders curling in, the boy passed him the parchment. Expectedly, the alchemist found the formula incomplete, and yet… Yet what he’d written so far was absolutely correct, and his handwriting was blessedly more legible than usual.
Progress.
“This is excellent so far,” he said, making the boy perk up. Then he slammed the parchment back onto the table in front of him. “Finish it.”
The boy drooped. “Do I have to?”
“Yes,” the alchemist snapped, wondering what answer he expected to get to that question.
The boy sighed loudly and leaned over the parchment again, his face screwing up in concentration. The alchemist turned to one of his many experiments, a grim smile on his face.
One way or another, the boy would leave this apprenticeship with all the skills and knowledge of a master alchemist. What he did with his life after that was his own concern, but the alchemist would teach him everything he needed to succeed.
Even if he had to drag him kicking and screaming the whole way.
©October 2018 Kristen Brand
Kristen Brand‘s work has appeared in Luna Station Quarterly, and Mirror Dance Fantasy. This is her first appearance in Swords & Sorcery.