The Alchemist's Other Apprentice
Chapter II
In which Charles Disappoints Malachi
and Stephen Sees a Troll
Charles deCamp looked out of his office window to the courtyard below and groaned.
“What is it?” asked Stephen, his new assistant.
“It’s Dee, he will be up here in a few minutes and Malachi is still inside.”
“What will you do?”
“Well,” said deCamp, “I’m not going to try to stop Dee. It’s probably best for us all if he is in on this anyway. No telling what sort of nonsense Lord Malachi is trying to push His Majesty into.”
Stephen shuddered but didn’t say anything. Lord Malachi always unsettled him. He didn’t know how Charles had endured it all of these years, the veiled threats, the accusing tone and the voice that made him think of oiled snakes. Stephen shuddered again.
“Still,” Charles continued, “it would have been easier for us if Dee had come a little bit later. Nothing is ever easy in this job”
When Stephen had started, just a few weeks ago, Charles told him that the job was basically very simple. Charles said that he could outline all of their duties on a single sheet of paper, but then he explained that the knowledge and wisdom actually needed to carry out those few simple tasks would require volumes. Stephen was beginning to understand what he meant. Charles had survived as His Majesty, King Philip's Court Clerk by striving endlessly to avoid conflict. This was exceedingly difficult in a place were everyone was trying to outmaneuver everyone else. It seemed that what everyone wanted more than anything else was the ear of the King, and because the Court Clerk was in a position to influence that, everyone wanted a piece of the Court Clerk. Stephen still didn’t know how Charles had kept his sanity.
“What do you think Malachi will do?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” Charles said leaving the window and returning to his desk.
That morning when the smiling, greased and perfumed Lord Malachi arrived at their office he had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want His Majesty to be disturbed during their audience. Especially by Dee. He had made no specific threats, but he had taken great care to emphasize how disappointed he would be, and he had pointed out how one disappointment could lead to another until absolutely everything ended up going wrong for absolutely everyone.
“And we don’t want that to happen, do we?” he had purred with an oily smile that made Stephen shiver again as he remembered it.
“Are you catching a chill?” Charles asked him.
“I’m all right sir, I just don’t know how you survive this.”
“I’m not sure I do either Stephen. But I’m worried about how things are going. Everyone has heard the rumors of threats from Sarc, that's probably why Dee is coming. If there is going to be trouble I want His Majesty to hear what Dee has to say about it. If we divert him as Malachi wants us to, it could turn into even more trouble for all of us. I want to stay out of Malachi’s way as much as anyone, but if we help him to accomplish his schemes it’s certain that we will have even more of Lord Malachi to deal with than ever before.”
Charles had told Lord Malachi that he would do his best but that he had no authority over Dee and could not control him. Malachi had simply suggested that he be creative.
“What does he expect me to do anyway?” asked Charles, “Tell him that the King has gone riding or some such nonsense?”
“I think that’s what he was implying.” Stephen said.
“Well, I’m not going to lie to Dee.”
“Lie to me about what?” Artimus Dee was standing in the doorway. His presence was almost as unsettling as Malichi’s, but in an entirely different way. Dee was tall and thin with a short gray beard and piercing blue eyes that seemed to take in absolutely everything. He wore brown robes that seemed plain and ordinary at first, but when examined more closely they revealed intricate and extraordinary patterns of botanical designs woven subtly and delicately into the fabric.
Dee’s manner was quiet and polite and, in contrast to Malichi, one felt that everything he said was honest and truthful. Yet there was still something intimidating about him. One always felt as though one were speaking to a stern teacher who would be disappointed if you answered incorrectly.
“Sir,” said Charles, “Lord Malachi is in audience with His Majesty and he has asked not to be disturbed.”
“I understand,” said Dee. “Tell me that I can’t go in,” he commanded as he walked toward the high mahogany doors behind which Lord Malachi was speaking with the King.
Charles looked at Stephen, both were puzzled. “You can’t go in,” he said hesitantly.
“Louder, forceful!” said Dee reaching for the door.
Finally Charles understood. “Sir, please, you can’t go in there!” He yelled as Dee burst through the door.
Charles looked at Stephen. Stephen looked at Charles. Stephen began to grin. Charles turned back to his desk.
“Nothing to smirk about,” he said. “It’s all likely to come back and bite us on the butt before it’s all over.”
“What exactly does Dee do?” Stephen asked.
Charles was quiet a moment. He glanced nervously around the room as if he were worried that the furniture might overhear him. He sat down and motioned Stephen closer and spoke to him quietly.
“If your going to do this job I suppose you need to know as much as I can possibly tell you. If you ask Dee, he will tell you he is an Alchemist. I suspect that he has ties with several of those obscure hermetic orders like the Rose Cross. His official position here is Court Astrologer. He is supposed to advise the King when astral conditions are appropriate for affairs of state.”
Charles’ voice dropped even lower, “Between you and me,” he said, “I’ve heard them speaking many times and have never heard Dee mention the stars at all. The King questions him about all sorts of things. History, politics, psychology, everything. They talk for hours.”
“What’s his own political agenda?” Stephen asked. “I mean... you told me you think Malichi wants more power, what does Dee want?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Charles. “I don’t really think he’s interested in politics or power at all. He only seems to be interested in natural philosophy and that sort of thing. You know, understanding the universe and all that. He says the desire for power is a curse and a fault in small men.”
“Do you think that’s really what he thinks, or is it just a cover?”
“Who knows?” Charles leaned back in his seat. “Who knows anything for sure. Sometimes it seems that everyone who comes through these doors is after something. I’ve been fooled many times by honest looking faces and innocent sounding stories.” He paused and seemed to be thinking. “What I can say about Dee is that he always seems to urge the King to be cautious. He always argues for holding back, studying the situation, looking at all the facts, taking time to gather more information. That’s why I’m glad he’s in there now. All this talk of the Sarcs preparing for war... all of it seems to have come from only one source, from Malichi. Yes, I know he says he has an extensive spy network in Sarc, and that he is only watching out for the good and safety of our country, and that he feels it’s his duty because Gallway is the closest to Sarc and in the best position to gather information. Still, it bothers me that it all comes from him. There have been so many odd things happening in Gallway over the past few years.
“Yes,” said Stephen. “I’ve heard some of that. Is it true that Malichi is only Lord of Gallway because everyone else has either died or disappeared.”
“It’s true. Lord Gallway was reported to have gotten up one morning, walked to his window and thrown himself from his tower into the sea. All very suspicious if you ask me. I never did like the sound of that.”
“How did Malichi come to be Lord.”
“He was just there. Malichi grew up in Gallway castle. His father had been Old Gallway’s administrator for years and he was following in his fathers footsteps. When Gallway died he had just become senior administrator. At first he was just asked to take care of things. You know, to keep the bureaucracy running until a proper heir could be confirmed by a council of the King and the other lords. Months passed and it never happened. Gallway had no sons, his nephew died the next week in a hunting accident and his cousin simply disappeared. All very suspicious if you ask me, but there was no one to blame any of it on. There was no one obviously seeking the lordship. Malichi simply stayed on, first as administrator and then later, as interim Lord of Gallway. After two years of this and with no one else showing any promise, the King finally made it official and granted him the Lordship of Gallway. After all he was holding the place together and there didn’t seem to be anyone else to do it.”
“I see said Stephen, “I suppose you can’t hold him back simply because he appears so slimy.”
Charles grinned. “No I suppose not,” he said. He liked Stephen. There had been a few other assistants over the years, but none that he felt as comfortable with as Stephen. Stephen seemed reliable and trustworthy. He had common sense and knew when to keep his mouth shut. Charles felt safe in telling Stephen the inside details that he was privy to because he felt that Stephen could be trusted to use the information wisely and discriminately.
Charles watched as Stephen rose and walked thoughtfully to the window. The younger man was short and thin. He had long dark hair that was tied neatly back. He wore the simple uniform of the palace’s administration. There was something oddly light and graceful about his movement, almost as if he were a dancer or acrobat.
“What in the world is that?” Stephen said, looking out of the window.
Charles rose and joined him. “Oh,” he said, recognizing the huge form that Stephen had noticed, “That would be Morcant. Madog Morcant. Speaking of lineage and heirs, Morcant is actually the bastard son of Creighton.”
“Really?” Stephen wondered aloud, “Why then isn’t he Lord Creighton?”
“Another odd story,” said Charles, returning to his desk, “although there are no mysteries in this one.
“Years ago, when Creighton’s wife died leaving him without an heir, he searched out young Madog and brought him to live on the Creighton estates, obviously with intentions of grooming him to be heir. He gave the boy everything education, horses, training. He brought in the best weapons teachers in the land to instruct him. Have you heard of Matt Bortolin, the hero from the clan wars?”
Stephen, still watching out the window, shook his head.
“Well, he was quite a well known and respected fighter. He was Madog’s fencing instructor. Anyway, Madog was a bad seed from the beginning. He had a reputation for cruelty even when he was young. Creighton obviously hopped he would grow out of it but as he got older he only got worse. On his twenty first birthday in some sort of obscene attempt to show that he was a man, he slew Bortolin during a practice match. No one doubts that Madog is truly an excellent, although viscous and ruthless, fighter. But also, no one doubts he was only able to slay Bortolin because Bortolin thought it was a non-lethal practice.”
“What did Creighton do?” asked Stephen, turning away from the window and sitting lightly on the ledge.
“Banished him, of course! Tossed him right out of the county and forbade anyone even to speak his name. Tried to forget the whole thing, I suspect. No one knows what Madog did after that. We heard nothing more of him until ten tears later when Creighton died. He shows up at the council demanding his birthright. Of course Philip wouldn’t hear of it and tried to send him away. There was a scuffle and Morcant killed four of the Kings guards. I saw the whole thing myself. He stood there amid the bodies scowling at all of us and then turned on his heel and simply walked out without looking back.”
“I have know idea what he could possibly be doing out there now but you are right to be keeping an eye on him. There are no good reasons why he should be here.”
Stephen turned to look back into the courtyard. There, standing alone near the stables, stood Madog Morcant. One of the biggest and darkest creatures he had ever seen. He was well over six feet tall and as wide as two men. He was shrouded all around with instruments of war. A long sword hung at his left side and a wide battle ax on his right. His armor was of leather bedecked with iron plates. His plain functional helmet obscured his features revealing only his ragged black beard and his burning eyes. He stood, arms crossed and unmoving, staring toward the window where Stephen watched from above. The guards in the courtyard seemed to be watching him uneasily. None approached anywhere near him.
Stephen looked down into the man’s eyes, wondering if the giant down there could see him through the window. There was no question that man could certainly be frightening, but Stephen wasn’t afraid. Stephen had seen huge hostile creatures like this one before. Just another troll with a bad attitude, Stephen thought.
The door to the council chamber flew open with a bang and Charles jumped.
Lord Malachi flowed into the room, his glare locking on Charles and remaining there as he crossed the office and passed through the outer door. When he had gone, Stephen heard Charles exhale loudly.
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