“Can you help me create more?Please!”
Her eyes grew wide.
“You mean you were… likethis? All the time? Hidden by an alchemical potion?”
She shook her head and clutched the edge of the nearest desk.
“This is the wildest thing I’ve seen for years, by a very wide margin. Are you an …orc?”
“Half-orc,” he corrected but had to admit that this comment alone spoke volumes about her superior education. At least she tried to go beyond the ‘green monster’ he had heard so often on his first days in Winterstone.
“I have seen my fair share of half-elves, but never one of your kind.”
She was largely talking to herself now, apparently still trying to process the revelation. But then, she looked up again and shook her head once more.
“I cannot help you, Krasen, even if I wanted to. As I recall, we’ve already talked about this. Icannot. My contract forbids me from inventing any new potions.”
Kraghtol remembered.
“Right. You mentioned that before. And it’s an alchemical contract, I suppose.”
He hesitated, making one last attempt. “It’s not a new potion, though. I’ve already taken it once. Does your contract apply to recreating potions as well?”
She seemed to ponder for a moment before answering. “I’m afraid so. There is little leeway. There is nothing I can do for you in that regard.”
Despite all his strength, he felt weak. One more person knew, and she couldn’t even help him.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to… bother you,” he mumbled.
Mrs. Hawke, who had apparently overcome her shock, straightened her back.
“You’re notbotheringme, Krasen. You look peculiar, yes. Frightening, even. But if my husband and his teacher have taught me anything, it’s daring to look behind the facade every so often. Quite honestly, I wish I could do more for you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hawke. There is one thing, one very important thing youcoulddo. Please keep this a secret and don’t tell anyone. Especially not…”
He hesitated briefly but finished the sentence, anyway.
“…your son.”
The teacher raised her eyebrows but then smiled.
“Yes, I can see how that might be problematic. Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. I like to keep my promises.”
She gave him a difficult to interpret look all over again before continuing in a carefully measured voice.
“I see your sickness has left you all emaciated. Please come to our house tomorrow evening at seven. I would like to invite you to a proper dinner. Roderic won’t be there.”
Kraghtol was bewildered. Emaciated? Given his changed form, he certainly looked healthier than before, perhaps aside from the skin color, which continued to startle people. What was she talking about?
“I’m not sure…” he began, but was interrupted by Mrs. Hawke, who seemed uncharacteristically determined.
“Good. At seven then. Don’t be late.”
She described where she lived — not too far from the school — and turned to leave the laboratory, but Kraghtol addressed her again.
“Wait. Can you please tell Valir where to find me?”
If Valir had asked about him, it could only be because of the loan. And the last thing Kraghtol needed right now wasmoretrouble. He’d better get it over with before the noble got the wrong idea.
