The Alchemist's Apprentice Read online

  The Alchemist’s Apprentice

  (The Zero Enigma V)

  Christopher G. Nuttall

  Book One: The Zero Blessing

  Book Two: The Zero Curse

  Book Three: The Zero Equation

  Book Four: The Family Shame

  Book Five: The Alchemist’s Apprentice

  http://www.chrishanger.net

  http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/

  http://www.facebook.com/ChristopherGNuttall

  Cover by Brad Fraunfelter

  www.BFillustration.com

  All Comments and Reviews Welcome!

  Dear Readers,

  I must apologise for the long delay between this book being announced as a forthcoming project and its appearance. However, as I’m sure you’ll agree, I have a good excuse.

  As you may know, if you follow my blog, my health began to deteriorate in November 2017 and, after a brief period when I thought the problem was behind me, started to collapse again in April 2018. The doctors tried several possible approaches before discovering, thanks to a private MRI/CT scan my wife insisted I take, that I had lymphoma. Chemotherapy was prescribed. This may just have been in time to save my life. I collapsed when I went for the first set of treatments, allowing the doctors to realise that I also had a nasty chest infection.

  I ended up spending three weeks in the hospital, having antibiotics fed into my system and my lung drained of fluid. This was not a pleasant experience and I found myself being moved between the haematology ward and the high-dependency care unit, depending on my exact condition. Eventually, they gave me the first treatment in two sections and - after my health started to improve - allowed me to go home. I was not, however, in a good condition for some time afterwards. The side effects made it hard to eat, at first, and then I caught a cold because my immune system had been badly weakened by the treatments. It was some time before I was able to muster the energy to finish this book.

  Obviously, I hope to regain full health once the treatments have been finished. I have a backlog of story ideas I want to write, including the start of a new The Empire’s Corps arc and a couple of completely new universes that need developing. (I spent a lot of time thinking of ideas while lying in that hospital bed.) If you want to pray for me, please do.

  I hope to finish the Invincible trilogy sooner rather than later, too, but I cannot guarantee anything. Please bear with me.

  Thank you.

  Christopher G. Nuttall

  Edinburgh, December 2018

  Cover Blurb

  A Stand-Alone Novel set in The Zero Enigma Universe ...

  Five months after the House War, the city of Shallot is on edge. The Great Houses plot and plan against one another, while the magicians rebuild and the common folk fear another outburst of fighting. And one young nobleman has a plan.

  Rebecca is a half-caste shopgirl in an apothecary, dreaming of an apprenticeship that will allow her to rise out of poverty and finally make a name for herself in a city that has no use for her kind. But when her master undertakes a commission for an enigmatic young nobleman, she finds herself drawn into a maelstrom of criminals, ambitious nobles and a plan that may shake the foundations of the Great Houses themselves ...

  Historian’s Note

  The Alchemist’s Apprentice takes place roughly five months after The Zero Equation and The Family Shame.

  Prologue

  I was twelve when I was taken into service.

  It was no real surprise to me, not really. My stepfather might have accepted me into his home, but he’d never really liked me. There was no way a half-Hangchowese girl could pass for his. My skin was pale enough to pass for a country girl and my name had been passed down from mother to daughter, but my almond eyes - slanted, the crueller kids said - proved my father had come from overseas. He’d made sure I was fed and educated - the law demanded no less - yet he wasn’t going to waste any of his money on me. I certainly didn't have enough magical talent to win a scholarship. And so, as soon as I turned twelve, my mother wrapped my dark hair in braids, stood over me as I packed a bag with everything I’d need for a month and took me down to the Hiring Hall.

  My mother ... I wasn't sure how my mother felt about me. I wasn't even clear in the details of what had transpired between her and my father. She seemed to love me, yet ... yet she hadn't kept my stepfather from ordering me into service. Was I a reminder of something she’d prefer to forget? Or was I merely old enough to earn my keep? I’d been cooking and cleaning almost as soon as I’d learnt to walk, like every other girl-child born in South Shallot; I knew the basics of housekeeping better than many a grown woman. My mother had taught me well.

  I couldn't help feeling nervous as we stepped through the massive wooden door and looked around. Normally, a girl who went into domestic service would find a placement through friends and family, but no one was willing to go out on a limb for me. My stepfather certainly wasn’t going to waste his contacts ensuring I had a good placement in a decent home. That was reserved for my younger half-sisters, assuming they didn't have talents of their own. And yet, the Hiring Hall wasn't meant for young girls who wanted to go into domestic service. Most of the people who came in search of a job were men from the countryside.

  “Be careful, Rebecca,” my mother said. “You must get the right sort of job.”

  My mother spoke briskly to the attendants, who gave me a marker to prove I was in search of a job. They didn't seem surprised to see me. I couldn't have been the only youngster who’d passed through their doors. And yet, as my mother walked me around the hall, it looked as though I wasn't going to get a placement. I was too young for some placements, too weak or inexperienced for others ... I’d never realised how limited my experience truly was until I needed a job. The Great Houses, who might have trained me, never hired through the Hiring Hall. They hired through family connections.

  And then I saw Master Travis for the very first time.

  He looked old, his chocolate-coloured face marred with the scars of a hundred potion explosions, his tattered brown robes covered with burn marks and marked with alchemical symbols I didn't understand until much later. His gait suggested he was constantly on the verge of falling. He was, as he walked over to us, more than a little frightening. But he was also the only person who’d approached us.

  “I need a shopgirl,” he said, bluntly. His accent was pure Shallot. I never learnt much about his family, though I had my theories. “One who can read and write.”

  “I can read and write,” I assured him, quickly. I could too, although not as well as he might have wished. My education hadn’t been that extensive. I certainly hadn't done well enough to earn the chance to study for the financial or legal guilds. “And I can serve customers too.”

  My mother leaned forward and started to haggle. My stepfather - damn the man - had insisted that I find employment in a place that gave me lodgings, even if I had to sleep on the cold stone floor. Master Travis haggled back, although without the intensity I’d expected from someone who’d grown up in Shallot. We’re a trading city. Children learn to bargain before they reach their second decade. By the time she’d finished, darkness was falling and I had a job. Master Travis had even agreed to teach me some basic potions in exchange for a slightly reduced salary. My mother had been insistent. A young woman who could brew would have excellent marriage prospects, as long as she didn't set her sights too high. It might just be enough to make up for my absent - and unknown - father.

  “Come,” Master Travis said, once the contract was signed. I was his now, at least until I turned eighteen. “We have to go.”

  The sheer enormity of what I’d done crashed down on me as I bid farewell to my mother an
d turned to follow him. I might go back to my stepfather’s house for visits - and Master Travis had agreed to give me one day off per week - but I didn't live there any longer. Master Travis’s shop would be my home for the next six years. My heart was pounding like a drum as we walked out of the hall and down the darkening streets. Master Travis walked with the utter confidence of a man who knew no one would get in his way. I wished I felt so confident. There were parts of the city my mother had told me never to visit after dark.

  It felt as though we walked for hours before we crossed the bridge to Water Shallot and turned down a cobbled street. The city was darker here, bands of sailors and tradesmen hanging around bars or roaming the streets in search of entertainment. Most of the shops were closed, their doors covered with protective runes. I stayed close to my new master as he stopped outside a darkened shop and pressed his hand against the doorknob. It opened a second later, revealing a vast collection of alchemical ingredients. I couldn't help thinking of a sweetshop. And yet, the air smelled of herbs rather than sugar.

  Master Travis lit the lanterns with a single spell. I could see why he needed a shopgirl. The counter was relatively clean - and the jars of herbs were properly sealed - but there was dust and grime everywhere else. Something tickled the back of my throat as I looked around. And yet, I was afraid to cough for fear I might set off a storm of dust.

  “You’ll sleep in the garret,” Master Travis said, pointing to a narrow staircase leading up into the darkness. His voice was gruff, but I saw genuine concern on his face. “Do you need something to eat?”

  I hesitated - my stepfather might have fed me, yet he’d never bothered to hide that the only reason he was taking care of me was because the law insisted - but then my stomach rumbled loudly. I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and that had been hours ago.

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “Take your bag upstairs,” Master Travis said. “And then come down and we’ll get something to eat.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, again.

  He offered me a lantern. I took it and walked slowly up the stairs. The building felt cramped, as if it was an oversized dollhouse rather than a real house. I later discovered that it had been fitted into the gap between two apartment blocks. The garret, at the top of the stairs, was dark and tiny. I was a small girl, for my age, and it still felt as if I’d bang my head on the roof if I stood up too quickly. There was dust everywhere. The bed and chair looked as if they’d been designed for children, not adults. I wasn't sure where I was meant to put my clothes.

  But it was private, I told myself. It was certainly better than the room I’d shared with my half-sisters. We’d practically lived in each other’s clothes.

  I put my bag on the bed and walked back downstairs. I’d been sent away from home, and I’d be lucky if I saw my mother more than once or twice a month, but there were advantages. I’d be away from my stepfather, I’d be earning money ... I might even be learning a new trade that I could use to support myself. Perhaps, just perhaps, going into service wouldn't be so bad after all.

  And it wasn't. It was the making of me, instead.

  Chapter One

  Potions have a magic all their own.

  Master Travis told me, time and time again, that most magicians preferred to work with their own magic, rather than unlock the inherent power of everything from Nightmare Grass to Dragon Scales. It was risky, they said, to brew a potion when the slightest misstep might cause an explosion that would blow both the magician and anyone standing too close to the next world. And yet, I could never agree with them. There was just something about watching a potion settle, the magical sheen growing more powerful as the unlocked powers blended together, that I found wonderful. Master Travis never had to beat me to get me to brew. The fascination of watching a potion come together was more than enough to keep me bent over the cauldron.

  I felt his eyes on me as I carefully - very carefully - dropped a tiny cup of beetle eyes into the liquid, bracing myself to shout a warning and duck under the scorched wooden table if I felt a sudden surge in magic. I had been working for nearly an hour, starting with boiling water and adding the remainder of the ingredients one by one; he’d watched me like a hawk, ready to snap a warning if I made a single mistake. I didn’t resent his presence, even though I knew some people would feel he was denying me the chance to learn on my own. The wards around the apothecary were strong, but nowhere near strong enough to keep an explosion from killing me or starting a fire if something went badly wrong. I would be ungrateful indeed to complain about something meant to keep me safe.

  The liquid bubbled, changing colour from yellow to blue. A faint shimmer appeared on top as the magic shifted, before settling down. I let out a sigh of relief - a stable potion would remain stable as long as no one did anything stupid, like hurling a fireball into the brew - and sat back on my chair. My legs felt stiff and sore. I’d been standing so still, they’d started to cramp. I rubbed them as Master Travis checked the brew, carefully sampling it with a spellcaster of his own design. I didn’t need him to tell me it was perfect. I’d done everything right.

  “Well done.” Master Travis gave me one of his rare smiles. I’d never seen him happy, save for when he was brewing. He’d put me in charge of the apothecary almost as soon as I learnt the ropes, a sign he trusted me. “Good enough for the healing arts.”

  I felt my cheeks heat. Master Travis sold potions everywhere, but healers were very particular about when and where they bought potions. I’d always had the impression that they had a small army of Potions Masters and Master Brewers tucked away, brewing whatever they needed. But then, there weren’t that many students willing to seek a mastery in brewing. It demanded dedication as well as skill. A student who lacked perfect control over their magic was more likely to blow himself up than graduate. But I had that perfect control. Master Travis would hardly have let me brew some potions - minor ones, to be fair - if he hadn’t been sure I wouldn't blow up the apothecary. I dreaded to think how much it would cost to rebuild the shop.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said.

  I played with my long black hair as he bottled and sealed the potion, affixing his personal design to the lid of each vial. I didn’t feel any resentment. Master Travis wouldn’t be able to sell the potions unless he vouched for their condition. Even now, even after four years of comprehensive instruction, I wouldn’t be able to sell them myself. Not to the healers, at any rate. There were people who wouldn’t ask so many questions, but they wouldn’t pay so much either. And the City Guard and the Kingsmen had no qualms about harassing unlicensed brewers. They thought one of them would eventually blow up the city.

  It felt strange to have my hair hanging freely, rather than in braids. My stepfather - technically the head of my family, even though he was renting me out to Master Travis - had pushed me into adulthood as soon as he decently could, severing some of the ties that bound us together in a single blow. My half-sisters envied my freedom, or what they saw as my freedom, but I wasn’t so sure. And yet, it had its advantages. I didn’t need a guardian looking over my shoulders, not now. I could sign contracts on my own. I could even undertake a formal apprenticeship without my stepfather’s permission. Paying for it would be tricky - my stepfather had confiscated half my wages over the last four years - but I wasn't completely destitute. And besides, I had a plan.

  I lifted my eyes to look at Master Travis, feeling a surge of love for the old man. He was my father. Not my stepfather, who had washed his hands of me; not my real father, who had sailed away to Hangchow instead of giving me a family. Master Travis had practically treated me as a daughter, not as a servant or a slave. I’d seen the bruises on other girls - and boys - who’d gone into service. And there were rumours of worse things than the occasional beatings. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the details. It was enough to know that I had been spared such horrors ...

  ... And if Master Travis took me as a formal apprentice, my future would be secure.

&nbs
p; The plan was simple enough, I thought. I was a legal adult. I could pledge myself to him for the five years it would take to qualify as a Potions Mistress in my own right. I wouldn’t be a qualified magician, not like someone who’d graduated from Jude’s, but with his blessing and certification I would be able to set up my own shop. Or stay with him, if he wanted. The apothecary was big enough for two Potion Masters. I wasn’t going to steal his secret recipes and spread them far and wide. I just wanted a life of my own.

  “Master,” I said, once he had finished sealing the potions. “I ...”

  A chime echoed through the apothecary. I looked down, automatically. Someone had stepped into the apothecary below. Someone had ... I swallowed, hard. It was nearly midnight. Who would be walking the streets of Water Shallot at this time? Not anyone with any good intentions, I was sure. This late, the only people who would come visiting were landlords and protection racket thugs ... and the latter, at least, knew better than to threaten an alchemist. Master Travis had friends in the community. Very few people wanted to risk his ire.