Herb-Wife (Lord Alchemist Duology) (33 page)

After
dinner, there was tea, more conversation – shading to the
political, with which Guild Masters and barons were funding what
repairs in the city – and finally farewells.

Laita
found time to hiss to him, "You're the man. If you know how to
be good,
do it
."

Iathor
found time to murmur to Nicia, "You made a small amount of
something for Kessa. Please deliver it to my office, well-marked as
poisonous."

And
when the guests were gone, he turned and saw Kessa'd slipped away.

He
checked the workroom first. Empty. Curious, he sniffed Keli's
concoctions. Then he stored the basket in one of the cabinets, beside
other things he'd not had time to research as he'd liked: the small
jar, containing a powder Kessa'd made back in her shop, that blighted
the potency of beer and perhaps wine as well; another jar, from
Iasen's workroom when they'd investigated the stench's source.
Iathor'd meant to analyze the powder and return it if it proved
harmless, or keep it as evidence against Iasen's then-vanished
apprentice, Lairn Ronan, if it proved something restricted.

I
should analyze this and take it to Thioso. Perhaps it will make Lairn
more cooperative.
The journeyman's stubborn refusal to tell the
watch
anything
had kept him in comfortable imprisonment for
some time now at the palace, with too many master alchemists too busy
to administer Tryth, Thioso likely too busy to ask questions, and
Lairn's own health too fragile to bear the potion's effects more than
once a fiveday.

Iathor
went prowling elsewhere. The library was empty. The kitchen held no
Kessa. The sitting room . . . He heard voices from the
lady's bedroom, and waited, leaning against the wall.

From
inside, he heard Viala say, "Should I lay out clothes in the
sitting room, m'lady?"

Kessa
replied, "No." A pause. "I'm very tired. I'll just
sleep here."

He
could knock and remind her of the bargain . . .

Viala
squeaked when she left the room and nearly bumped into him. "M'lord!"

"Good
evening, Viala."

The
silence within the bedroom was intense. He looked in; the bed's
curtains were closed. "Kessa?"

A
pause. "Yes?"

He
sighed very quietly. "Good evening. Sleep well, my lady wife."

"And–
and you. Sleep well."

Unlike
women's clothing, Iathor's didn't require true assistance, so it
didn't matter that Brague had considerately absented himself. In a
fit of . . . something . . . he untied
the curtains from his own bed's posts, save on the side facing the
door.

He
doubted it'd matter, but . . . Shutting her out seemed
a foolish thing.

Sleep
came more quickly than expected, but when he woke, the empty bed was
cold beside him.

Chapter
XIX

W
aking
late had benefits, including that Kessa didn't have to face any
questions, for the Guild Master'd gone to work already. Late
breakfast
in bed
was a marvel, and more awkward than she'd
have guessed.

Kessa
got dressed, thinking she might ask for a buggy and visit Laita after
signing gratitude notes for the wedding presents. She'd have to ask
Loria how much hired buggies cost. How much money did a Guild Master
and minor baron
have
? She knew master alchemists paid dues and
tithed useful potions to the guild, where they were presumably sold
or tithed again to the army, but since Iathor'd no shop as Keli
did . . .

At
least Kessa'd more ingredients now, if she wanted to make anything
herself. Numerous herb-witches had sent bits of stock as wedding
gifts. Kessa recognized only a few names, and was unsure why they
thought her worth cultivating.

The
sun shone through glass windows here and there in the house, and the
day outside was fine enough that many rooms had their shutters open.
When she'd gone on tiptoes to look out her bathroom's window, she'd
seen the side of the house going further back, and realized that
between cold and clothing-fittings, she'd not gone walking in the
garden yet.

There
is snow over my heart,
she thought, standing in the formal dining
room and holding the curtains open. The day was fine and bright,
unseasonably warm for winter. The thin window-glass was only slightly
rippled; she could see across the broad street to the whitewashed,
nearly-as-fancy houses of wealthy merchants and poor barons.

Various
buggies went past: one or two-horse rigs, with open compartments. She
watched a young man flick his horse with a whip, making it go faster
than was really safe, while a young lady shrieked and clung to his
arm; the footman who was likely the chaperone clung grimly to his
perch at the back. Two young women, one driving, passed in the
opposite direction, noses primly in the air. Their horse was a
handsome gray, that Kessa would've called an alchemist's color.

Iathor
didn't bother with fancy horse colors. The ones who pulled his
carriage were ordinary brown, though he could've changed them to
whatever hue he wished.

That
was probably good. His son would likely be dark of hair and easily
tanned. If Iathor'd been used to controlling those living things
belonging to him . . . A bad mixture. She sat in the
windowsill, though it was a narrow perch, and held her hands over her
belly.
See? You'll be safe with him, little darkling.

She
felt her mood sliding down that snow-soft, snow-slick hill . . .
And noticed a buggy turning into the front brickway that arched in
front of the Kymus house. It looked to be a hired vehicle, carrying a
thin, gray-haired woman in tan clothing. The driver rode his horse in
a crudely modified saddle, feet resting on the harness poles.

Kessa
hurried to the kitchen to give advance warning of an unexpected
visitor.

"How
odd. I'd have thought all the wedding presents already delivered,"
Tania said. As the bell chimed, she called, "Zeth, go get that."

The
boy darted off, and Tania said, "M'lady, do you want tea ready?"

"Ah . . ."
Kessa didn't
quite
look behind herself to see if the shade of
Iathor's mother hovered there. "I suppose it's useful to have,
if it's not a bother. And please don't call me that in private?"

"Hmph.
We'll see. I suppose you'll get enough of it when you've your own
bodyguard." Tania turned to her cabinets. "Best be off with
you as well, in case it's someone who'd need the lady of the house."

"Can't
I be indisposed?" Kessa asked over her shoulder as she slipped
out.

The
laughter, mostly cut off by the closing door, suggested the default
answer was
no
. Kessa patted at her swoops of hair, then
gathered up her skirts and walked for the front hall.

An
older woman's voice was already raised in outrage. "–meaning
of this letter! He should be here! They said he wasn't at his
office!"

Kessa
padded through the outer sitting room and saw the woman berating
Zeth, overriding his confused stammer. Gray hair showing beneath her
bonnet. Tan dress and cloak with white accents. Pale blue eyes in a
long, narrow face. She'd a crumpled letter in her thin hand, with
ash-gray wax broken upon it. The front door was still open, with the
buggy waiting.

Perhaps
lady of the house
was akin to
Shadow alchemist's assistant
.
Feign authority well enough, and one might have it. "Zeth,
please get the door. It's not warm enough for a cross-breeze.
Mistress–" That was safe enough; married or not, the title
could serve for any sufficiently important woman till you reached
nobility. It was harder to finish the sentence. "I'm Kessa
Kymus. Is there something I can help with?"

"You!
It's true, then! It's all
your
fault, and him protecting you!"

Accusation,
ironically,
calmed
her. "I'm not sure I know what you're
talking about, Mistress . . . ?"

"Saydra
Glasswife, I am. Darul Reus' sister, and
you
should know
that
name, you little dog."

"I
do. That letter accuses me, Mistress Glasswife? May I read it?"
Might've been
Mistress Saydra
, and a Lady Kymus could've
gotten away with it, but some people settled themselves when
flattered.

After
closing the door, Zeth ran for the end of the hall. Saydra thrust out
the letter. "If you can read," she sniffed.

Kessa
took the thing mildly. On one side, it was addressed
to the wife
of Rotheld Glassforge
. On the other . . .

The
words were ink, not graphite. There was no signature, nor seal on the
wax, though the gray was alchemist enough.

Was
this threatened in that letter Iasen sent, at the wedding?
Gently, Kessa re-folded the letter and offered it back. "There's
a watchman named Thioso. His stipend's not paid by the Alchemists'
Guild, and he's served the city-prince in a minor matter. He'll want
to see this."

Saydra
took the letter in a not-quite snatch. "A watchman, you say?"

"You
can give it to Commander Rothsam, if you wish." She'd followed
Iathor into the watch commander's office, once, and remembered the
name. "It should get to Thioso eventually."

"You
say it's a lie, girl? Or you just think your husband can protect
you?"

"Well.
Those are interesting questions." Kessa looked at her hands,
clasped in front of her. Zeth hadn't come back, so Dayn probably
lurked behind a corner. "I've not yet been in the gardens. Would
you walk with me there, Mistress Glasswife?"

"What,
so's you can poison me, too?"

Kessa
gestured slightly at the door. "Have the driver watch, if you
wish. Some of the servant children here, perhaps. They're not
dramsmen, and certainly not immune to the truth potion."

The
woman hesitated, then said archly, "I'll tell him I'm in the
garden, and he's not to leave without me." She turned, opened
the door, and stalked outside, leaving it ajar.

As
Kessa'd expected, Dayn turned up at her shoulder. "Will you be
all right, m'lady?"

"That's
an interesting question, too," she replied absently. "Is
there a door to the back garden that's not a servant's passage? I
think Mistress Glasswife expects something finer."

"The
hall with the guest suites has a door at the end. Zeth can unshutter
the lights and I'll lead you."

"My
thanks." She'd not explored down that hallway, even after a
month, feeling too much like an intruding sneak-thief.

Dayn
actually ran to the corner. Then Saydra thumped the door open,
stalking back in. "He'll not be going anywhere till I leave,"
she announced. "That cost me some coin, I hope you know."

"I'll
ask someone to cover the matter, Mistress Glasswife." Kessa
closed the door gently, then began walking slowly down the hall. "I'm
told there's a door to the garden area, this way."

Saydra
fell into step beside her, in prim outrage. "There's nothing you
can say out there that you couldn't say in here."

"Mayhap."
Kessa didn't stop.

At
the corner, Dayn offered a cloak to Kessa, not even breathing hard.
She took it, and he moved ahead of them.

The
hall was perhaps un-dusted, and some of the shutters over the
Incandescens Stone lamps only half-open, but it was decent enough,
Kessa thought. At the end, the promised door opened onto a
gravel-paved path. The decorative bushes beside it were dried and
brown. The air was cool; sunlight warmed her gray cloak nicely.

The
path wound beyond the carriage house, its door, and eventually past a
corner of the stables. She knew there were buckets of clae to keep
the manure smell down, but was glad the wind was blowing odors away
from them.

Dayn
followed, within sight, but mostly out of hearing.

There
were plots of herbs out beyond the stables, some better tended than
others. Fruit trees grew here and there, and she thought she saw
signs of a household crop towards Jeck's little cottage. There were
no stone benches, as she'd hoped, but otherwise . . .
There was a good line of sight, so she knew
where
Dayn was.

"Mistress
Glasswife," Kessa said. "Would you tell me about your
brother?"

"What?
You knew him – you poisoned him!"

Kessa
didn't turn. "I owed him money. I saw that side of him. I
wondered if you ever did."

"There's
naught he did that justifies taking his mind!"