David Wells - Cursed Bones

“Not this time of year,” Lucky said. “If they can find an apothecary, they may be able to purchase it.”

Alexander nodded thoughtfully. “I have no idea how the people on Zuhl might react to their presence.”

Lucky shrugged with a smile. “Why not go and ask for yourself?”

Alexander chuckled softly. “The simplest solutions are usually the best.”

“Indeed they are. Now, I’m eager to proceed with my project.”

“All right, the sovereigns tell me that one of the ingredients of aqua regia is muriatic acid.”

“Yes, essentially a concentrate of stomach acid.”

“Good, so mix the aqua regia, but keep a quantity of muriatic acid aside for use later. Dissolve an ounce of gold into the aqua regia and boil it down to one-tenth of its initial volume, being cautious of the fumes.”

“Wait, am I to understand that gold is the secret of Wizard’s Dust?”

Alexander nodded, smiling. “Essentially, yes, but it’s more than that. Gold is Wizard’s Dust, or more to the point, Wizard’s Dust is gold, only in a much different state than it’s normally found.”

“Miraculous. I’ve often wondered why men are so obsessed with gold. It isn’t very useful as a metal, except for jewelry, of course, yet it’s been used by every society in history as money. Now I think I understand that better. Gold is the link between consciousness and the firmament, the source of life and magic. No wonder we’re drawn to it, no wonder men crave it, even if we don’t fully understand why.”

Lucky sat down chuckling softly with a mixture of awe and revelation ghosting across his face.

“The sovereigns have outdone themselves with this. Keeping such a thing secret for so long is almost beyond imagining. Consider how many people are carrying gold in their pouch as we speak.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why it must remain secret,” Alexander said. “Tell no one … ever.”

“I understand, of course,” Lucky said, nodding solemnly. “So, I’ve dissolved an ounce of gold in a quart of aqua regia and boiled it down to one-tenth of its original volume.”

“Add an equal quantity of muriatic acid and boil it down again. Repeat this step until no more fumes are produced, then gently boil it down until the solids are just dry. Be careful not to burn it. Take the resulting material and repeat the steps from the beginning until the product is a rich orange-red in color.”

“This is very exciting, Alexander. I’m quite sure that every wizard who’s ever lived since the fall of the Reishi has dreamed of learning the secret of Wizard’s Dust, the secret of magic itself. Thank you for entrusting me with this task.”

“You’re welcome, Lucky, but it’s important for you to understand that you are literally one of only two people in the world capable of producing Wizard’s Dust. It’s more than just gold manipulated by a complicated process … it requires magic to create, powerful magic.”

“In a way that’s reassuring,” Lucky said. “If just anyone could learn the process and make it work, we’d have people attempting the mana fast left and right; most would fail and die horribly, but those who succeeded would lack the guidance and wisdom of other, more experienced wizards. There’s no telling what they might do, even if by accident or mistake.”

“I couldn’t agree more. The power to manipulate the fabric of reality itself must be guarded and protected. To do any less would be to unleash a thousand Phanes or Zuhls on the people of the Seven Isles.

“When Balthazar Reishi told me of the crushing burden he felt after he first discovered the process for creating Wizard’s Dust, I didn’t fully understand. It seemed to me that he’d just unlocked the secret of life. I imagined that I would be jubilant in his place, but now I understand the weight he felt.

“Honestly, if we weren’t at war with such dangerous enemies, I’d give serious thought to letting this secret die with me.”

“You can’t mean that, Alexander.”

“Consider the consequences for the world if we fail to control this. If this secret falls into the wrong hands, it’ll be our fault. We will bear some of the blame for the evil they do, the suffering they cause.”

“Magic is power. Like a hammer, it can be used to pound a nail or beat someone’s brains in,” Lucky said, donning the hat of the tutor. “We don’t deprive the world of hammers because they can be misused.”

“No, but a hammer can’t be used to destroy tens of thousands of lives or enslave whole countries … magic can. While I agree that it is a tool, it’s far too powerful a tool to be left lying around like a hammer.”

“Fair enough, just don’t forget that magic is also used for good, enriching and improving countless lives, assisting with food production, building construction, and healing, just to name a few of the limitless uses of magic that benefit not just those entrusted with wielding it but society in general.”

Alexander nodded, smiling at his old teacher. “I miss these conversations.”

“Me too, my boy, me too.”

“I should be going. The process will take you a few days to complete, but the end result will be stable. Just keep it someplace dry until I can return with the next steps.”

“Take care,” Lucky said as Alexander faded out of sight.

After returning to the cave and clairvoyantly searching the surrounding area for any hint of snowbell, Alexander finally decided that seeking out an apothecary was probably the best chance they had for procuring the rare root. He floated high over the cave and found the telltale streamers of smoke rising over a village in the distance. It was several leagues away over rough terrain but it was also fairly large, more of a small town than a mountain village.

It was perched on the high ground of a bluff overlooking a winding stretch of fast-moving mountain stream. A single road led into the town from the south, crossing the stream over a well-made stone bridge that arced gently across the steep ravine. Several smaller roads led from the town into the less tame parts of the island farther north.

Alexander discreetly materialized between two buildings near the market square and strolled out into the flow of people coming and going, taking care to avoid being near enough to anyone for them to brush up against him and wonder about his lack of substance.

The marketplace was busy, filled with stalls and carts offering goods for sale. There was no sign of war except for the absence of men. There were adolescent boys and old men aplenty; women comprised the majority of the people in the square. Men of fighting age were nowhere to be seen.

One woman took notice of him standing in the middle of the throng of people looking this way and that. She strode up to him with her jaw set and her eyes alight with passion. “What’s your excuse?” she demanded, looking him up and down.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why aren’t you with the army like my husband and brothers? You look fit enough, even if you are a bit scrawny.”

Alexander hesitated, unsure of how to answer her question. That only seemed to enflame her more.

“What, are you a coward? Don’t have the spine to face the enemy?” She reached for him as a crowd of other women started to converge on him. He backed away.

“Why, you little weasel. Here you are, all safe and cozy while every other man of age in the entire country is risking his life for us, standing against the Reishi scourge. What makes you special?”

The crowd started to jeer and taunt him as they closed in. They weren’t overtly violent but he knew it was only a matter of seconds before one of them tried to lay hands on him and he didn’t want to arouse suspicion, knowing full well that Abigail and Anatoly might have to come here to procure the medicine Magda needed.