Engines of Alchemancy (The Alchemancer Book One)

Chapter 2. Waves

AARON'S PLAN TO START SEARCHING for answers was derailed almost immediately. After he and Master Rion had left Shanna in the capable hands of a caregiver, the sorcerer insisted Aaron go to see Master Elsanar. Having no choice in the matter, Aaron, with Master Rion as his escort, left the hospital and went straight to Ellingrel. Now, as Aaron stepped into his master's study, leaving Master Rion in the outside hall, the familiar scent of apple and cherrywood pipe smoke greeted him. Elsanar, who leaned back in his usual faded, leather-bound chair, was just visible between multiple stacks of papers, scrolls, and books. One corner of his mouth sucked at his chestnut pipe, while the other exuded gentle puffs of white smoke in timed rhythm. Robes like those worn by Master Rion were draped around his slight form, though his were more worn, the dark satin gone light and the ends frayed from years of wear. As Aaron bowed his head to indicate he was at his master's service, he spied the elder's favorite doeskin slippers just poking out from beneath the desk.

Without removing his pipe from his mouth, Master Elsanar said, "I understand there has been an incident." His voice was soft yet gravelly with age.

Soft light from a single candelabra combined with the layer of pipe smoke hanging heavy in the air to create a pale, comforting glow.

"Yes, master," Aaron said.

Elsanar leaned forward just enough to look Aaron up and down. He lifted his head to see better through spectacles that hung at the tip of his long nose. "You are unhurt?"

"I am well, master."

"And your friend? Sarna. She is well, also?"

"It's Shanna, sir." Master Elsanar's inability to recollect names was the stuff of notoriety. "Yes, she's recovering. Master Rion and I brought her to Jadjin. She says she will be fine. There was a man, sir. He was trying to kill us. Shanna tried to stop him, but—"

"I know, Aaron." Elsanar's voice remained calm, reassuring. He leaned back once more, one hand stroking the length of a beard dominated by gray, while the other gestured at one of the two high-backed chairs facing his desk. "Why don't you sit? There are things we need to discuss."

Aaron started to round one of the chairs when instead he froze. A sheathed sword leaned against the chair and a satchel rested on the seat. Aaron knew neither belonged to his master. The bag was of plain leather, bereft of design, with a fur-lined shoulder strap and nothing to distinguish it from any other bag. But because the sword was there, eslar glyphs so plainly etched on its bone hilt, Aaron knew exactly to whom the items belonged. He also knew that sword, satchel, and owner were never far from each other. Probing the darkest of the room's shadows, he saw nothing at first. Though his gaze swept over the rest of the room, it quickly returned to that single corner furthest from the light. Even then, he did not see him until he chose to reveal himself. First, stark white eyes appeared from the gloom. Then, a sleek, blue-black skinned face crowned by a shock of rust-red hair emerged. The rest followed until a man stood revealed. No, not a man. An eslar. Master Ensel Rhe Alon. Tall and lean, he was dressed for nocturnal events: black brigandine armor and dark leather elsewhere. A long coat stained dark with dampness from the road reached nearly to the floor. Without a word, the eslar came forward, the starkness of his eyes never leaving Aaron's. He lifted the satchel from the chair with one hand. He extended his other toward Aaron.

"My sword," he said, his words a near whisper.

Aaron hesitated to touch the eslar's weapon. It reminded him too much of the assassin's knife, only larger and, he guessed, much deadlier. He swallowed, then forced himself to take hold of it. With a hand he fought to keep from trembling, he held the weapon out to Master Rhe. The eslar received it with a slight nod, then he pulled his coat back to secure the blade at his belt. Aaron spied an assortment of other weapons there—a pair of throwing knives, a dagger whose dark sheath matched that of the sword, and a short blade identical to those worn by the soldiery of Norwynne—before Ensel Rhe obscured his arsenal by letting his coat fall back into place.