Page 85 of Luthias

“Good idea.” Emery watched him insert a key in the big door and frowned. “Why do you keep it locked up, though?” Then she saw what was inside and gasped. “Oh. Never mind.”

Inside the huge room an enormous hearth occupied the back wall, and the light from its huge blaze scattered over what appeared to be a king’s treasure room. Mounds of crystals and gemstones in every color glittered from where they had been heaped in huge bronze urns, and lay scattered over work tables. Beside them large ingots of gold and silver had been stacked by the dozens. At different benches young sages worked to cut and polish the beautiful stones, while others measured and sorted them.

“It’s like Aladdin’s cave,” Emery said, trying to take it all in.

“Forgive me, but I dinnae ken Aladdin. ’Twas Prince Ross taught the first enclave the secrets of Fae alchemy,” Duine told her as he stopped in front of a rack of small crystal flasks in which sparkling liquid was being dripped from copper distillation tubes. “We’ve carried on their work, and seek to find new methods with which we may treat illness, restore vigor and ease pain. Here the lads are finishing an elixir distilled from gold and sunstone crystal. Rubbed into the skin, it helps our elderly vassals by easing pain from arthetica in their joints and bones.”

“Arthetica.” Emery leaned close to the flasks to see the tiny flecks of gold and red suspended in the orange liquid. “I think that’s what we call arthritis in my time. How can crystals and metal help alleviate pain?”

“’Tis a blend of mortal alchemy and Fae magic,” Duine told her. “All stones possess some power that needs only be awakened and then harnessed by suspension. Prince Ross taught the first enclave those secrets.”

She straightened and regarded him. “I’m guessing that’s all you’re going to tell me about them, too.”

“Only those born to our order may ken our methods.” He glanced down. “How did you bruise the back of your hand?”

“I tried to pick up Camdyn’s heaviest hammer. That’s the definition of a big mistake, by the way.” She lifted her hand and flexed it. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“May I?” When she nodded, Duine took a small vial from one of the racks and poured a sparkling drop directly onto the bruise. It sank into her skin at once, leaving just a small shiny patch on her skin. “Do you yet feel pain?”

“Oh, it’s really not...sore at all.” Emery frowned and flexed her fingers. “How did you do that?”

Duine chuckled. “If I told you, I’d be obliged to make you a sage.” As several of the young men in the room stared eagerly at her, he scowled at them and added, “Which I cannae, as we dinnae permit ladies to take vows and join the order.”

“Only guys can be sages, huh?” Emery sighed. “Oh, well. There goes another job opportunity out the window.” She rubbed her thumb over the bruise, which even appeared a little lighter now. “Do all of your elixirs work that fast?”

“No, Mistress. Some may take an hour, others a week,” the sage admitted. “For our efforts we dinnae always succeed. The quality of the crystal, the potency of the distillation, and many other happenings affect the result.”

She glanced at the urns. “Where do you get all these stones?” When she saw Duine’s expression she chuckled. “I know. If you tell me, you have to kill me.”

“Oh, we sages vow never to take life.” He leaned closer and murmured, “But if you ken, I’d have to wed you to one of the lads.”

From there the master sage showed her the rooms where the apprentices took classes from the older sages, and the various storage rooms. Finished elixirs were kept in carefully segregated shelves in what felt like the coldest, darkest room in the castle.

“Light and heat may affect the blends and suspensions,” Duine told her as he took down a stone pot and removed the lid. “The farrier uses our salve here to heal ulcerations from stones caught in hooves before shoeing, but ’twill grow solid if kept in the sun too long.”

The contents looked like sparkling brown and blue jelly. “So most of what you make is for medicinal purposes?”

“Much we do, aye, but our elixirs do good in other ways.” He gestured toward some flat boxes. “We soaked these stones in a potion that renders tainted water clean, for travelers who must partake from rivers and lochs they dinnae ken. They’ve but to add one to a cup, and any water added, ’tis made safe to drink.” He then picked up what appeared to be a long, somewhat crooked walking stick and handed it to Emery. “A branch from a tree watered with a stone-turning elixir. No matter the weight borne, ’twill never break.”

She saw another door at the end of the room that had a complicated-looking lock instead of a latch. “What’s in there?”

“We collect some odd relics we find in the oldest places near the stronghold,” Duine said. “Naught of importance.”

A shout from the outer passage made her turn toward the door. “Is something wrong?” A strange odor reached her nose. “What’s that weird smell?”

He sniffed the air. “Och, no. No’ again.” The master sage hurried out of the room.

Emery followed him from the storeroom to a small chamber on the opposite side of the hall, outside which several young sages stood knocking on a scarred, weathered door. The smell of something like raw fish and cotton candy filled the air, and a pink mist completely covered the hall’s stone floor. As Duine unlocked and opened the door a cloud of the mist billowed out, and rained tiny pellets of dark pink crystal onto the floor.

“Elder Sgur?” the master sage called out as he waved his hands to disperse the colorful fog. “Need you aid?”

“Och, no, lad. As ever, ’tis but a hitch in my blend, naught more.” A small, bald man emerged from the fog, his robe covered with bits of crystal and what appeared to be clumps of pink-streaked white hair. “My hair growth potion, ’twouldnae behave once I put it to boil. I’ve no notion where I went wrong.” He rubbed a hand over his head and then frowned. “Damn me, ’tis scoured my pate clean.”

“Elder Sgur, he’s the oldest member of the enclave,” Duine murmured to Emery. “His work often involves such mishaps.”

“Okay.” She’d had a chemistry professor like that, who had blown up at least two labs with his personal experiments before being persuaded to retire.

“You shouldnae try your elixirs on yourself, Elder,” one of the young sages said. “You may be burned or worse.”