Shadows Return - Lynn Flewelling [58]
“No!”
He knew it was futile, but he fought anyway as the guards held him down and pinched his nose shut. Yhakobin thrust the leather funnel down his throat and poured the contents of the cup in. They held him until he gagged down every drop, then dragged him up to his knees at Yhakobin’s feet.
The alchemist shook his head as he fastened a silver amulet to Alec’s collar. “I should thrash you, but I’m too pleased with your progress.”
“What did you do?” Alec demanded again, gagging at the sweet taste that filled his throat.
“All I’ve done, Alec, is refine your Aurënfaie blood, cleansing it as best I can of the taint of your human parent. I can’t remove it completely, and the effects last only as long as the tinctures do their work, but at this moment you are more ’faie than you have ever been in your life.”
Alec pressed his clenched fists against his knees, fighting the urge to fly at the man. Tainted? His father—his human father—was the only family he’d ever known! He could have cried at the thought of losing what little connection he had left to him, but he wouldn’t give these bastards that satisfaction again. Instead, he closed his eyes and bowed his head. Play the role, Alec. Play it to the hilt.
“Forgive me, Ilban. It was the shock. I—I wasn’t prepared.”
To his surprise, Yhakobin went to the forge and lifted out a kettle that had been warming on a hook by the fire. He poured two steaming cups and handed one to Alec, motioning him to a low stool.
Yhakobin sat down in a large chair next to him and took a sip from his cup. Alec sniffed his. It smelled like a very good, strong tea, nothing more.
“You’ve had your draught for the day,” the alchemist assured him. “This is tea from southern Aurënen, the best in the world. See, I’m drinking it, too.”
Alec took a cautious taste, and then another. By the Four, he’d missed the taste of good tea almost as much as meat. This was delicious; the warmth of it spread through him, and with it thoughts of home.
“Thank you, Ilban,” he said, and for the first time he actually meant it. “But I’m surprised. You drink Aurënfaie tea?”
Yhakobin smiled at that. “Surely you aware that many of the clans trade with us, and have for centuries. Virésse, for instance. Ulan í Sathil and I are on very good terms.”
Alec froze, cup halfway to his lips. He and Seregil had had dealings with the leader of the Virésse clan during Klia’s negotiations in Aurënen. Ulan was a smooth, ruthless man, and one not likely to forgive them for their role in breaking up the Virésse monopoly on Aurënen’s trade with the Three Lands.
Could it have been him who betrayed us? What was a year’s time for an Aurënfaie to wait, who counted time in decades? Perhaps all Ulan had to do was bide his time until they came back to Aurënen. And there’d been no secrecy about their mission.
“Is there something wrong with your tea?” asked Yhakobin.
Alec shook his head and took another sip of the fragrant tea, letting it wash away the lingering aftertaste of the tincture.
“The world is a large place, Alec, and I think you have seen only a little bit of it in your young life. You’ve been taught things about my country that are not true.”
I knew you kept slaves, Alec thought, but wisely held his tongue.
“And you know nothing of alchemy, do you? Would you like to know more?”
“Yes, Ilban,” Alec replied eagerly, though not for the reason Yhakobin probably thought.
Yhakobin filled both their cups again. “Alchemy is the art of manipulating the consciousness that exists in all matter. With skill and knowledge, an alchemist can effect great transformations.”
“Turning lead into gold?” Alec asked, skeptical.
“That is certainly one of the better-known applications, the epitome of the lowly puffer’s art, but one of very minor importance to any serious alchemist. No, we seek a deeper spiritual transformation, to heal the inner disharmonies of individuals, and of the world.”
He pointed to an elaborate tower of glass vessels, now brewing on the athanor. They were the round-bellied type, with down-curving,