Inkmistress (Of Fire and Stars 0.5)(67)

THE DEEPER WE WENT INTO THE CASTLE, THE QUIETER it became. Fewer servants hurried past us, and the patrolling guards changed from pikemen in heavy armor to those wearing a variety of smaller weapons and lighter armor for mobility. The maze of passages seemed as though it would continue forever, until Hal led me down a narrow hallway. An unmarked wooden door stood at the end, shrouded in shadows.

Hal knocked in a careful rhythm.

We waited, the silence stretching out. I fidgeted uneasily. Hal hadn’t told me much about the alchemist, only that the man owed Nismae a favor Hal intended to collect on. What if he refused to help us?

“Are you sure he’s here?” I asked a few moments later.

“I’m sure. Sometimes he gets too absorbed in what he’s doing to answer the door. Other times, he falls asleep over his work.” Hal tested the door, but it was locked. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to handle this like I used to.” He pulled out a thin tool with a curved end and inserted it into the lock. After a few practiced twists of his fingers, the door swung open on silent hinges.

I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder, but the hall was empty behind us.

“Come on.” Hal gestured for me to enter.

The sun slanted in through a wall of arching windows on the south side of the room. I squinted until my eyes adjusted. In front of the windows stood a series of workbenches covered in an astonishing array of plants, vials, and substances, many of which I recognized. My heart lifted. Something about the place gave me comfort—perhaps the familiarity of so much of what surrounded us. I knew what to do with these things.

“I’ll go see if he’s in his rest chamber,” Hal said, pointing to a different door than the one we’d come in through.

“I’ll wait here,” I said, curious to explore more of the workshop.

Shelves spanned from floor to ceiling on the wall opposite the windows. The contents seemed entirely random. Some books stood vertically and others were stacked haphazardly on their sides, all interspersed with empty vials in every size, baskets filled with dry herbs, and other relics I didn’t recognize.

I moved closer to the shelves, intrigued by something purple and sparkly. My breath caught when I saw what it was. A dried fire flower lay preserved in a glass tube, the petals in far more ragged condition than the ones I’d carried in my satchel before Nismae stole it. A pang of longing struck me. I missed my cave, my flowers, my herbs. I missed home, but it felt so distant now.

“He must be somewhere in here,” Hal said, reentering the workshop.

Something screeched overhead, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. An enormous raccoon peered down from a high shelf, squinting at us. He stretched, yawning as though we’d woken him from a nap.

I backed up swiftly to Hal’s side. The raccoon clambered down, knocking over a couple of empty bottles on his way. He scurried across the room, already transforming before he reached the workbench, taking the form of a tall man wearing simple robes, the sleeves carefully bound to keep them out of his potion work. He had salt-and-pepper hair shorn close to his head and facial hair of a similar length and color. As soon as he donned the spectacles sitting on the table, his expression changed from one of sleepy confusion to shock.

“Eywin,” Hal said, his tone neutral. Only a twitch in his jaw betrayed his feelings.

“Phaldon!” The man walked toward Hal slowly, adjusting his glasses as if to be sure his eyes told the truth. Sentiment swept over his features until he seemed near tears. “I can’t believe you returned.”

Hal glanced away, like he couldn’t stand to see the genuine emotion on the man’s face. “I’m here to collect on the debt owed for Nismae sparing your life.” His voice was flat.

Eywin looked genuinely confused. “What debt?”

“Nismae told me you chose the king over us, but she spared you when we left because you’re our blood.” Hal’s brows drew together.

A shock traveled through me. “Wait, you’re related?” I’d thought Nismae was the only mortal family Hal had.

Eywin peered at me over his spectacles. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced.”

“My name is Asra,” I told him.

“Very nice to meet you, dear. Yes, to answer your question. Hal and Nismae’s mother was my older sister.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Hal said bitterly. “Not when you were partly responsible for sending Nis on a mission meant to kill her.”

Eywin sighed. “That was a misunderstanding.”

“How was it a misunderstanding to let the king send your niece on a deadly mission you knew about?” Hal asked, his voice rising. “You’re part of the king’s council. Only a monster would send his own niece to die.”

I touched Hal’s arm softly, trying to steady him. His life in Corovja had been far more tangled up with the crown than I’d ever known. Hopefully there weren’t any darker reasons why he’d kept this from me, but now I understood why he hadn’t wanted to come back. Guilt made my heart heavy. He’d returned only to help me.

“That’s not quite what happened,” Eywin said, rubbing one of his temples. “I had no say over anything Nismae was being assigned to do outside this workshop. I never wanted any harm to come to her.”

“She worked for you. She said you knew about the mission,” Hal accused.