Read The Alchemist's Door Online
Authors: Lisa Goldstein
The Alchemist's Door (10 page)
The Greek man shifted toward Dee. He was somewhere in his forties, with a round face, a black unruly beard, and dirty black hair that hung to his shoulders. His eyes popped from their sockets, the whites mottled and unhealthy, almost yellow.
“Are you looking for something?” he asked. His dogs turned toward Dee as well.
Could this man help him? But before Dee could ask the man spoke again.
“Tincture of mercury, perhaps? Cassia pulp? Vitriol of Mars?”
A fraud, Dee thought, disappointed. He had met men like this often enough, accompanying Kelley to various alchemists and astrologers in England. Almost all of them had proved to be braggarts and mountebanks, people who would claim anything to embellish their reputations.
“I'm afraid I don't remember your name,” Dee said to gain time.
“Mamugna. I have a mandrake root, gathered under a gallows at midnight ⦠.”
“Iâno, thank you. I'm looking for knowledge.”
“Yes, of course. You've come to the right place. You have only to askâthose of us who are embarked on the Great Work hide nothing from each other.”
This had not been Dee's experience. But he had caught a word farther down the table, something that sounded promising.
He held up his hand to indicate to Mamugna that he wanted to listen.
He held up his hand to indicate to Mamugna that he wanted to listen.
“King Rudolf himself came to Prague only two years ago,” Sendivogius was saying. His accent was similar to Prince Laski's, and now Dee realized that despite the man's splendid Latin-sounding name he had to be Polish. “And why? The Holy Roman Emperors traditionally make their capital in Vienna. But Rudolf knows a thing or two about magic. He knows that something is about to happen here. Anyone with even the slightest magical ability feels it.”
“Nonsense,” Alexander Seton said. “Magic is available everywhere, and to everyone. King Rudolf is a great patron, I agree, but he himself knows nothing.”
“But look at him,” Sendivogius said. “He rarely leaves his castle, he has fits of melancholy, he throws things ⦠. It's clear what has happened to him. He has meddled in things too great for his understanding, and is slowly going mad.”
“His entire family is subject to these fits,” Seton said. “He is descended on both sides from Joanna the Mad, after all. As I said, it has nothing to do with magic.”
“Then what about other rulers near Prague?” Sendivogius asked. “In Russia they call the czar who just died Ivan the Terrible.”
“And also there is Báthory Erzsébet,” one of the Hungarians said. His accent was very strong.
“Elizabeth Báthory,” the other said. “Here it is the family name last.”
“Elizabeth Báthory, yes,” the first one said. “A princess in my country. The people say that she bathes in the blood of virgins so that she stays always young.”
“Rulers have always been mad,” Seton said. “This means nothing. Itâ”
“Prague in the Czech language is Praha,” Mamugna said, joining the conversation.
Dee turned to him. What did this have to do with magic? But Mamugna was continuing.
“Praha means threshold,” the Greek said. “We stand on the threshold here. Not just between east and west, and between northern and southern Europe, though that is certainly part of it, the fact that we are at the center of the great trade routes of Europe. But we are also between the living and the dead, the spirit world and our own. One step across, and we are somewhere else. And that step can be anywhere in the city.”
“Do you mean,” Dee said slowly, “that it is easier for spirits to come here than anywhere else? That theâthe doorway between their world and ours lies in Prague?”
“Yes, of course,” Mamugna said. “And as the door opens wider there will be more and more of them, filling the city.”
But my spirit appeared to me in England, Dee thought. “What about possession?” he asked. “Have any of you known a demon to inhabit living bodies?”
“Of course,” Sendivogius said. “Such things are common enough.”
“What can be done, though?” Dee asked. “How do you force the demon to leave the body?”
“Done?” Sendivogius said. “I don't know that anything can be done. As my colleague here said, in Prague the spirits travel where they like. But are you talking about a specific case?”
“A friend of mine,” Dee said. “He called up a demon and now cannot send it back.”
“How did he do it?” Seton asked. His eyes glowed like sword-points in the candlelight.
“He used a showstone,” Dee said. “He can see angels in the glass.”
“Ah,” Seton said. “How does he prepare the glass?”
Dee felt despair, and a tendril of the fear that was never far from him now. These men knew very little. They were more
interested in learning from him than they were in answering his questions.
interested in learning from him than they were in answering his questions.
“It's best to clean the glass with holy water,” Mamugna said. “I have some water that has been blessed by none other than a bishopâ”
“Nonsense,” Sendivogius said. “All that is needed is ordinary water and vinegar.”
“Is it?” Mamugna said. “You see here what happens without careful protectionâ”
“I had this from the Befaninis, who are cooks for the great house ofâ”
“Befaninis! But that means little witches in Italian!”
“Just so,” Sendivogius said.
Dee rose to go. These men had some knowledge, but it would take weeks to sort out anything useful, and he felt too weary to even begin to attempt it. As he stood he saw Magdalena and the Saracen, talking to each other as though no one else in the room existed. Magdalena threw back her head and laughed, her long beak of a nose pointing toward the ceiling. Dee sat back down, next to Magdalena this time, and tried to hear what they were saying.
They had become serious. “Have you given any more thought to my suggestions?” the man said to Magdalena. To Dee's surprise he had only the slightest trace of an accent.
“Yes, of course,” Magdalena said. “But I can find no one to help me. I wish you would stay and be my teacher.”
“Unfortunately I cannot. And it is best to have only one teacher, one master. It would be irresponsible of me to start you on a course of study and then leave you.”
“I understand.”
“I'm afraid I have some business to attend to now,” the man said, standing up. Now Dee could see his loose-fitting trousers, as worn as the coat, and supple leather boots. “You'll be joining me for supper at the usual time, I hope?”
“Of course.”
“Take care,” the man said.
She turned to watch him as he went, and saw Dee. “Would you introduce me to your friend?” Dee asked quickly, before the man could take his leave.
“This is Master Al Salah,” she said. Her features were blurred in the candlelight. “And this is Doctor Dee, from England.”
The man inclined his head in a bow. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Doctor Dee,” he said.
“The pleasure is mine,” Dee said. But before he could say anything else Al Salah bowed again and left the tavern.
Magdalena laughed. “You're wondering what the likes of him has to do with the likes of me,” she said.
His expression must have given him away, though he had tried to hide his astonishment. “I am, yes,” he said. She would not believe him now if he lied to spare her feelings. “And did you say you're meeting him for supper?”
“He's kind enough to feed me,” she said. “Otherwise I would probably starve.”
“That's good of him,” Dee said absently. His mind was whirling with everything he had heard. It was time to go home and try to make some sense of it. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” Magdalena said. “I'll see you soon.”
Dee left the tavern and headed toward Doctor Hageck's house. Why was this man helping her? Did he see something in her that Dee had missed? Or was he simply being charitable, feeding her to keep her from starving?
That last was probably it, Dee thought. His thoughts turned to what he had learned at Rabbi Loew's, that there was a righteous man, one of thirty-six, here in Prague. Could it be Al Salah? What did that mean, to be righteous? Was it enough just to do good, as Al Salah seemed to be doing?
Or was the man they searched for another of the alchemists?
It seemed unlikely. Poor Magdalena, trying to learn something useful from that mixed collection of rogues and seekers. She at least seemed sincere. Perhaps she wasâNo. But maybe ⦠Had the angel said the thirty-sixth had to be a man? He couldn't remember.
It seemed unlikely. Poor Magdalena, trying to learn something useful from that mixed collection of rogues and seekers. She at least seemed sincere. Perhaps she wasâNo. But maybe ⦠Had the angel said the thirty-sixth had to be a man? He couldn't remember.
No, it was ridiculous. No one so foul-mouthed could possibly be counted righteous.
His stomach growled, reminding him that he had had nothing to eat since breakfast. The conversation at the tavern had been intriguing enough that he had not thought to order a meal for himself. He forced his thoughts away from the alchemists and hurried home, hoping that Jane would have something set out for the midday meal. Poor Jane, he thought, putting up with his comings and goings at odd hours. If anyone was good, and kind, and righteous â¦
His hunger returned, sharper this time. He thought of the supper Al Salah had promised Magdalena, and he could not help but wish that he had been invited.
THE NEXT DAY KELLEY KNOCKED ON THE DOOR AS DEE AND his family were eating breakfast. “I thought I'd show you my new house,” he said.
“Certainly,” Dee said. He finished eating and followed Kelley. As he went he saw Jane beam with pleasure, thinking, no doubt, that Kelley would now be gone forever.
They went south a long ways. Dee had learned that the section he lived in was called the Old Town and that to the south lay the New Town, new because it had only been built two centuries ago. He had never visited it, though, and now, as he followed Kelley, he saw that the streets were cleaner and broader and that more care had been taken in laying out the squares and boulevards.
He looked longingly at one of the squares, a pleasant green
spot with benches and fountains and paths marked out with rose borders. He would have liked to pause, to rest a while, but Kelley hurried on.
spot with benches and fountains and paths marked out with rose borders. He would have liked to pause, to rest a while, but Kelley hurried on.
They passed a number of shops: a glassblower's, a tanner's, a tavern. Each had a door of a different color: butter yellow, grass green, crow black. Suddenly Kelley stopped and peered in a window. “One minute,” he said. He opened a brick red door and went inside, and Dee followed.
He found himself in a dim dusty room; what little light there was came through small leaded glass windows and a few squat candles. As his eyes adjusted to the light he saw that the room was very long and narrow, no more than six feet wide but extending back an unseen distance into the gloom.
Now he could make out clumps of herbs and roots hanging from the ceiling, and shelves along the wall holding bottles of different sizes and colors. A stuffed alligator stood on a pedestal. The room smelled of mold and chemicals, and of the leather hides from the tanner's down the street.
“Good day, Master Kelley,” someone said.
A man walked toward them from the back of the shop. “Ah, Doctor Dee,” the man said. As he came into the light of one of the candles Dee saw with surprise that it was Mamugna.
“Do you know each other?” he asked Kelley. “Why didn't you tell me when Rabbi Loew suggested I look for alchemists?”
Kelley said nothing. “I have that sulphur you wanted,” Mamugna said. He took a small red jar from one of the shelves and brought it over; Dee smelled its sharp foul odor. “Did you want anything else? What about you, Doctor Dee? Have you decided you need something after all?”
“No,” Dee said, trying to sort out his confusion. How long had the two men been acquainted? Why had Kelley mentioned Golden Lane; had that been an attempt to confuse Dee as to the whereabouts of the alchemists?
Kelley opened his purse and reached inside; Dee heard the heavy clink of coins. He paid Mamugna for the sulphur and they left the shop, Dee blinking in the sun.
A few minutes later they came to an enormous house, almost a palace. It had three good-sized stories with gabled windows, and on top of that a cupola almost tall enough to comprise a fourth. A giant arched door stood in the center. As they came closer Dee saw that it was made of oak and bound in iron; it looked too heavy for mere humans to open.
“This isâthis is your house?” Dee said.
“Yes.”
Now Dee could see a smaller door set into the left-hand side of the larger one. Kelley took out an iron key and opened it, then led him through a marble foyer. They walked through chilly cavernous rooms, all unfurnished. Their steps rang against the floor and echoed back from the walls. Reliefs of gods and angels floated against the ceilings, gazing down on them indifferently.
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