A Conspiracy of Alchemists: Book One in the Chronicles of Light and Shadow (29 page)

CHAPTER 49

In the guesthouse, Marsh slipped his carriage cloak over his shoulders and buttoned it up. He pulled on his gloves and put on his hat. It was time to go and he was more than ready.

Inut was loitering by the door with a broom in his hand, pretending to sweep the floor. Marsh turned to the boy and handed him an envelope. “Give this to your father. If I do not return by the end of tomorrow, he is to post it without delay. It is very important. Can you do that?” The boy took the envelope with some reverence and nodded. “Well, then I bid you a good evening, young Inut.” Marsh touched the rim of his hat. “You have been most kind and helpful. I will always be grateful for that.” He felt a sense of eeriness as he spoke.

Constantinople was settling into the rhythm of early evening as the sun cast its last weak reddish glow along the skyline. The air was filled with the smell of wood smoke and a thousand spicy dinners cooking. Marsh set out at a brisk pace. Even without his abilities, he was good at being inconspicuous. To the world, he looked like any other gentleman tourist seeking out the forbidden pleasures that the city of Constantinople had to offer. Opium dens and houses of ill repute were not hard to find. Apart from the odd surreptitious glance, no one paid him much attention.

He reached one of the many wooden bridges that connected the city. Two royal guards were looking out at the river. He held his breath and willed himself to stroll casually past them. At the other side of the bridge he looked back briefly. The soldiers hadn’t looked at him, but he wasn’t going to tempt fate by loitering. Instead, he turned into a side street and disappeared into the half-light.

Thanks to the faun’s map, he managed to find the square again without too much difficulty. The Judas tree stood lonely and bare in the blue-gray light that filled the space between sunset and complete darkness. Its black branches reached for the sky. The square was deserted, but Marsh decided not to tarry. If his calculations were correct, a full moon would soon be rising tonight. Whatever the Alchemists were planning, it was going to happen tonight. Of this he was sure.

He hoped Elle was all right. A tiny ember of hope glowed inside him.

Quiet as a shadow he stole round the square and ducked into a deserted doorway. The fairy had told him that she had flown out of a grate on top of the tower. He could see the crumbling structure looming up from the middle of the cluster of buildings. The tower must have grown into this villa as buildings were added onto it over the years.

At the other end of the alley, the yellow light of a lantern marked an entrance. A guard in a gray cloak slouched against the doorway. He was no more than a boy, his face still clear and unmarked by runes. An acolyte yet to undergo the ultimate initiation that earned them the scars of their Guild.

This, then, was definitely the right place. They could not have advertised it better if they had made posters and pasted them on the walls. He would have to go round the other way to avoid the boy raising the alarm. Silently, he backtracked to the square and slipped into the alley that ran alongside the building.

He rounded the building in the opposite direction, but; it took him a good few minutes to walk all the way. The building was much bigger than it looked.

Quietly Marsh crept up on the boy. Judging from his dejected stance, he must have misbehaved for them to make him stand guard instead of attending what would probably be the biggest ceremony this Order had conducted in centuries. He didn’t want to think about the reason for the ceremony tonight. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle. Carefully he poured some of the liquid onto his handkerchief. It was a tincture of mandrake root, chloroform and a few other secret ingredients purchased—with the help of Inut—earlier today.

Marsh reached up and grabbed the boy from behind. His eyes widened as Marsh clapped the cloth over his nose and mouth. A few seconds later, the boy slumped against him, limp and unconscious.

Marsh carefully let him down against the doorway. The mixture would leave him out cold for at least six hours, perhaps more. With quick fingers, Marsh felt inside the boy’s robes until he found the keys. He unlocked the door. Then he jammed the key into the lock and pushed against it with all of his strength. The key snapped off in the lock. The door would not be locked again in a hurry. With his exit secured, he slipped into the building.

Inside was a narrow passageway that led downhill. It was quiet and empty. Marsh drew a stick of chalk out of his pocket and made a mark on the wall, indicating the direction he was taking. Judging from what he had seen of other Turkish buildings, this one was likely to be like a maze inside. He made another mark on the wall a few paces further on. It was going to be easy to get lost.

He walked down the passage and into another, all the time looking and listening for anything that could lead him to Elle.

Suddenly the sound of voices reached him. Marsh ducked into a dark alcove. He stood very still as an acolyte and a guard walked by. The guard was carrying a tray with an empty bowl and a jug on it.

Marking the wall with his chalk, Marsh walked in the direction they had come from.

He walked until he reached a wooden door with a padlock on it. It was the only door in the corridor that was locked like that. Carefully, he lifted the padlock and examined it. It rattled against the door as he maneuvered it.

There was a shuffling noise, and Marsh froze.

“Who’s there?” A man spoke from the other side of the door.

“A friend. Now be quiet.”

Marsh pulled the ring of keys out of his pocket and examined them. He selected one and pushed it into the lock. It didn’t fit. He tried two more before he felt the click of metal biting into metal. With a swift twist of his wrist, the lock sprang open and he slid the bolt back.

The door creaked open and Marsh took two steps back in surprise. He gasped for air and covered his face as a rancid wave of heat and stench assailed him.

The man grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into the cell. He closed the door and slid the bolt into place. “Quick, before they see you.”

The man inside the cell had dark red hair, like Elle’s, except that it was graying at the temples. He was dressed in a long linen smock that was covered in an array of gory-looking brown and red stains. The smock was held in place by a leather harness around his chest and shoulders. The man also had a contraption that involved a magnifying glass strapped to his head. It made one of his eyes seem grotesquely large compared to the other. Eyes the same color as Elle’s.

“Professor Chance, I presume?” Marsh said as soon as he caught his breath. Inside the cell, the stench was even worse.

“Who wants to know?” the man said somewhat nervously.

“Marsh, Hugh Marsh—Viscount of Greychester” Marsh shook the professor’s hand. “And I have come from England to rescue you.”

The professor shook Marsh’s hand. He turned his head and squinted, almost as if he did not believe Marsh was real, and the magnifying glass on his head rattled.

“What on earth have they done to you?” Marsh said as he took in the surroundings. If he breathed through his mouth, he could just about handle the smell … but only just.

The professor’s cell had been converted into a laboratory. A series of long wooden benches took up most of the space. On top and to the side of the tables was a collection of copper kettles of varying sizes. A network of rubber tubes connected these to one another. Glass iambics and retours filled with spark glowed ominously as they sat clipped onto metal stands.

To the one side of the room, Marsh spotted the source of the heat; a large furnace glowed behind a grate, locked with another large padlock. To the side of the furnace, an unmade cot with dirty sheets sat sourly against the wall.

Then he spotted the source of the smell. It was a heap of dead chickens and other small animals, and he did his best not to gag.

“I’m terribly sorry about the ghastly pong in here, old chap, but they made me do it. Those dastardly Alchemists.”

Marsh surveyed the carcasses.

“Normally they come to take them away,” the professor said, “but no one has been yet this afternoon. , so I do apologize.

They do look rather horrible, don’t they?”

Marsh nodded.

“They were already dead when they brought them to me, you know. I am supposed to fill them with spark, to get them going again. The study of re-animation alchemy, they call it. Lazarus electro-biology and thaumaturgy. Not my field of expertise, as you can see.”

He pulled the magnifying glass back over his eye. “I think I’ve done it though. Look here, —if you wire up the animation candidate with wires to the center point— …”

“Professor!”

The professor looked up from his experiments. “Yes?”

“How long have you been here, sir?”

The professor shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure. It was night. There was a train involved. We traveled due east, I think.” He shook his head again. “I haven’t seen the sun, so I don’t know how long. Days, I think probably. I don’t—I can’t remember, but I think I made a note.” He muttered and rifled through the notes and bits of paper that were strewn in between the apparatus.

“Let’s take a moment, shall we.” Marsh led the professor to the cot and sat him down. “I am a friend of your daughter.”

The professors looked at Marsh sharply. “Eleanor?”

Marsh took a step back. The professor’s magnified eye, so close to him, was somewhat disconcerting.

“Oh, sorry.” The professor pulled the headpiece off and put it onto the bench.

“Yes, Eleanor.”

The professor looked suspicious. “How do you know her? You look familiar. Do I know you?”

“She and I traveled here to look for you.”

“Then where is she?” he asked, looking around.

“Professor,” Marsh said, as gently as he could. “These people, the Alchemists, they have Eleanor. I am sorry, but they managed to intercept us on the way here and they have taken her prisoner.”

The professor stared at him in horror. “But Ellie’s at home in England. She was due back for a week off from her flight duties. We were going to work on the flying machine.” His voice wavered. Suddenly he looked up at Marsh. “Mrs. Hinges.” He grabbed Marsh by the arm. “Is Mrs. Hinges all right? Please tell me these monsters have left her unharmed.”

Marsh gripped the professor’s hand. “Mrs. Hinges is fine. I’ve left her in the care of my most trusted man. And from what I can tell, she is a woman who is quite capable of caring for herself.”

The professor nodded. “Yes, I suppose that she is.”

The older man seemed fragile, like his mind wasn’t entirely whole. There was no way of telling what the Alchemists had inflicted on him, but for now Marsh hoped his absentmindedness was not permanent.

“Professor, you need to understand something. I believe that they have taken Elle for an altogether more sinister reason. Your daughter is a very special woman. You do know she is the … well, the Oracle?

The professor’s eyes widened. “How do you know about that?”

“It is a long story. I am a Warlock.”

The professor stared at him. “So you’ve finally found us.”

“I fear that they are planning to use her Elle to rip open a hole in our reality. They want the world to flood with power, so they can wield it for their own dark needs.”

“Oh, I know all about that plan. Frankly, I think it’s quite insane.” The professor’s eyes grew misty. “Vivienne and I tried so hard to keep Elle away from all of this. My wife would have been so terribly upset if she were alive to see this.” He covered his face in his hands.

Marsh patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“It has happened then, hasn’t it? Elle has received her gift.”

Marsh nodded. “She has.”

“We tried to shield her in the hope that it might skip a generation, you know?” his voice trailed off.

Marsh gripped the man’s arm. “Sometimes we cannot get away from who and what we are. But right now, she needs our help. And we have to see if we can find her before its too late.” Marsh considered briefly if it might be better to leave the professor locked in the cell while he continued his search.

“Well, what are you waiting for, then, man?” The professor gave Marsh a nudge. And while were at it, let’s find a way to get this thing off me.” He pulled at the shackle around his ankle.

Marsh looked up in surprise.

“Smartly, now, we don’t have all day,” the professor said. “We’re not going to get very far with that glum attitude.”

Marsh pulled out the ring of keys and tried them one by one. None of them fitted.

“Blast,” said Marsh, as he yanked the last key out of the lock.

“I have a better idea,” the professor said. He motioned at the workbench. “Do you know how to use spark?”

“I do indeed.” Marsh picked up one of the cylinders and held it up to the light. Getting an accurate blast of spark without electrocuting the professor was going to take all of his concentration. He held the cylinder up, ready to smash it.

“Good grief man, not like that. You’ll kill me for sure. . The professor looked horrified. “Hand me that machine on the desk and I’ll show you my invention.”

On the table was a contraption that looked like a cross between a concertina and a small bellows with a pipe attached to it. Marsh picked it up and studied it.

The professor smiled. “One of my first experiments … It caused the original subject to incinerate, so they weren’t interested in it, but I’ve thought of a few new applications since. I haven’t been able to think of a way of doing this on my own, or else I would have liberated myself by now.” The professor grabbed hold of the contraption and slid the glass cylinder of spark into the back of the bellows. “You hold it like so.” He demonstrated. “Then you aim the nozzle at whatever it is that you wish to blast and then, with a bit of concentration … 
Kazam!
” He pushed the bellows and a beam of spark shot out of the nozzle. It burned a hole in the floor. “The trigger mechanism could do with some refining, but on the whole, it works.”

Marsh stepped back. The professor smiled triumphantly and handed the contraption to Marsh.