She appeared a few minutes after him in her usual forge uniform—men’s trousers and a man’s shirt held fast to her form by an old-fashioned corset.
She busied herself at the shelves, choosing a variety of metals, then placed them on the worktable and dug about in her pockets.She emptied their contents alongside the other metals.Among them, Apollo’s gold glinted.
He picked it up, tossed it up, caught it.“The ones you’ve been carrying about will be better for this task.”He tossed it up again.
She caught it.“I need this to work.”
“Why?What does it matter, knowing your metal?From what I can tell, most alchemists use all metals, no matter their affinity.”
“Yes, you’re right.But… it can guide you, and I need every bit of guidance I can get if I’m to build a true alchemy device.”
“A myth, nothing more.Stone’s mad.”If it weren’t a myth… holy Hades, what a discovery.The man who could turn lead to gold would hold the world in the palm of his hand—wealth, titles, power… If Stone was close enough to decoding the old myth that he’d abducted a woman to help him, that was reason enough to stay by the master alchemist’s side.
“Diana’s letter says that many believe alchemists used to possess the ability.But we lost it.I wonder if the design is Stone’s own.Now that I have a notion of its purpose, the device seems too sophisticated for him.But also rather… old-fashioned.It uses crude parts that have not been used for at least a hundred years.And its design is old fashioned as well.Simple yet elegant.Newer inventions tend toward an elaborate and embellished sort of style.”
Apollo leaned the back of his hips on the table, holding the lump of lead up to the light.“Well, he has been grave robbing.”
“What?”
“Oh yes.The man can’t come up with anything of his own.Any invention that comes out of his forge came first from some poor alchemist’s grave.I had no idea you lot buried your dead with work.Work.For theafterlife.How plebian.And unimaginative.”
“It’s honorable.”She snatched the lead from his hands.“Shall we begin?”
He shifted from foot to foot, crossing his arms over his chest.“Are you sure you’re ready?”They’d been practicing all week.Between the kissing.She was improving quickly now that she had a little confidence.He was too.When they worked together, shaping metal felt easy as breathing.
She nodded.“I’m ready.”
With bellows and coals and firewood, they stoked the flames.When it raged, Sybil tossed a handful of metal chunks inside.
But not his gold.
Apollo swept it off the table and held it out.“You’ll need this, too.”
She shook her head.“It’s yours.It would be wrong.”
He kissed her forehead and slipped it into her pocket.“For luck.”
“Thank you.”
They watched the metals until they glowed.
“Now,” he said, “Steel yourself for the heat and reach into the flames.Close your eyes.Don’t cheat like I did.”
She laughed and closed her eyes, and with one steady inhalation, reached into the fire.She stood like a statue, the flames licking at her skin, as the minutes ticked round the clock in the hallway.He began to worry.Her entire body began to heat, glowing around the edges.A little sun bloomed in her pocket, her body heat igniting the gold.
“Sybil…”
But she didn’t even flinch.How long should she stay like this?In any of the tests he’d observed, even his own, it had taken minutes, seconds, not close to an hour.
Her arm began to shake.
“Sybil…?”
She remained outstretched, arm thrust in the fire, and fear crept up his spine.She burned so bright, she might shatter.Or melt.
“Sybil, come out.Now.”
Except for her shaking arm, she didn’t move.
