Julian’s answer arrived five days later in the form of the man himself, red-faced and visibly out of breath as Therion opened the door. His expensive suit was rumpled.

  “Master Julian,” he greeted him respectfully, offering the man a smile, “I’m glad you could make it so quickly. You really didn’t have to rush.”

  Julian glared at him incredulously. “Are you kidding me?” Then, realization dawned and he sighed. “You didn’t know. Of course.” He shook his head and pushed past the mage into the spacious foyer, careful that his expensive suit didn’t snag on the large vases of roses that sat on either side of the door. “Where’s your father?”

  Therion gestured toward the living room, where Prisca and their father were enjoying a cup of tea. Roses filled this room as well, blooming in vases on the floor and table, and drying slowly on the walls where Garius had carefully woven white and yellow shrub roses into lattices that he’d mounted last week to frame the windows and doors.

  “I worked through the night and left the morning after your letter arrived,” he explained, moving toward the indicated room. It takes a few days to get here from Fergefield, even with a fast horse, and a full course of dreamshade elixirs takes four days to administer.”

  So that was why he looked so worn out. Therion’s generous 10-day timeline had, in fact, been nothing of the sort. He opened his mouth to apologize, but then he closed it again. The alchemist had come regardless. Old Julian really must want to move back to Halfbridge. Prisca beamed at the man and waved as he entered. He responded with a nod and addressed the ranger sitting next to her.

  “Good afternoon, Garius,” Therion’s dad nodded and offered a strained smile. “Hi Julian, it’s been a long time. You want a cup of tea? The pot’s still hot, I think. Have a seat.”

  Taking his cue, Therion ducked into the kitchen to get another cup for the alchemist. When he returned, Julian was sitting across from his father holding up a muddy brown vial. “It looks like dirty pond water, but don’t be fooled–-it tastes a lot worse. You take one every night immediately before bed. Then meditate on your most painful memories, or in this case, the battle as you lie down.”

  Garius grunted. “How am I supposed to sleep after that?”

  “The elixir will take care of it. It will cause especially painful and stressful memories to fade slightly as you sleep.”

  Garius raised an eyebrow. “Won’t that mean I risk losing… I don’t know. Important memories? Experiences? A lot of my life is made up of times that fit that description.”

  “There are some risks,” Julian allowed, “but it shouldn’t be a problem unless those old memories stimulate a physiological response – racing heart, trouble breathing, nausea, that sort of thing. I’ll come by every morning to review your dreams with you and adjust the dosage as needed. There’s nothing to worry about.” His eyes flicked toward Therion. “You’re in good hands.”

  The middle aged ranger met the eyes of his children in turn, pursed his lips and finally nodded to Julian. “Alright.”

  “Good. Now, as for my compensation…” the alchemist pulled Therion’s letter out of his bag–-the original, not the copy that he’d have received in Fergefield–- and held it up. “The course will cost you seventy-four gold marks, payable immediately, and I expect to hear exactly how you plan to get my license to practice here reinstated before we begin.”

  Prisca inhaled sharply, surprised at the price, but rose smoothly to fetch the gold at a nod from their father. Therion shifted uncomfortably, though he was more concerned about the second demand. After a moment, he opted for the truth, dressed up as best he could in the woman’s own language.

  “I’ve been consulting, unofficially, on an update to the standards on municipal waste disposal with Archmage Thurdred and Magistrate Gerold. We have discussed, in light of our elevated need for specialists, to reform the process to make room for rehabilitation. In this case, dumping violations won’t result in an immediate judgment of systemic non-conformance. Instead the Underkeepers will be required to issue a written warning along with the regular fine multiple times before moving on to any permanent consequences for the guild or its members.

  Julian pursed his lips thoughtfully. “How do I know you can actually make sure that happens?”

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  Therion shrugged and grinned. “I got them to toss you out, didn’t I?”

  ***

  Therion and Prisca watched that night with some trepidation as their father unceremoniously downed the muddy liquid, shuddered with a low groan and sat down on his bed before shooting them both a halfhearted glare.

  “Get out of here! I don’t need you standing there watching me. This is going to be uncomfortable enough as it is.”

  Prisca swallowed. “What if it doesn’t work? Or if Julian isn’t playing straight with us?”

  “He’s not going to screw us now,” Therion reassured her, though honestly he didn’t feel entirely certain himself. “We have a paper trail.”

  “That, and,” Garius added, “If I don’t wake up tomorrow, he’s going to die.”

  Therion choked. “What?”

  “What? I’ve had rangers following him since he set foot in the city. Nice and publicly, no skulking, so he knows I’m watching. It’s important to remind people like Julian of the stakes. It’s insurance. Now get out of here!”

  Prisca raised her eyebrows at Therion wordlessly and he shrugged, idly picking off a bit of the wax that had run down the side of a candle. They left, closing the door behind them.

  Before settling down to sleep himself, he set the sliver of wax down on his own nightstand and cast a scrying cantrip, using it as an impromptu, short-range anchor. If something went wrong and there was something to hear, it would wake him. At least, it would for the next few hours. It wasn’t much of an anchor.

  ***

  Therion woke to the sound of a rapid and insistent thumping on the front door. Dim gray morning light shone in through the windows – the sun hadn’t risen yet. Wasn’t it a bit early for Julian to be here already? He rose blearily to get it, throwing his robes on without properly securing them. Still, he was beaten there by his sister who wrenched the door open in her nightdress and slippers, a look of absolute fury contorting her features. She had, apparently, not slept very well.

  “Do you have any idea what time it is?!” she hissed, not bothering to greet their visitor or inquire about their business. “Come back when the sun is up like a normal person!”

  She was about to slam the door closed when Therion seized the door to stop her. “It’s alright Julian, come on in. I’ll make us some co – ” he cut off as he finally managed to peek his head around the door to get a look at their visitor.

  It was Theresa. The alchemist eyed the two of them with a disapproving gaze before finally settling her gaze on Therion.

  “I heard from Master Julian last night. It appears he’s doing some private work for a client in the city.” She cocked her head. “Should I be writing a report to the magistrate?”

  “I doubt that report would achieve much,” he replied, giving her a humorless smile. “I have it on good authority that Julian’s banishment from Halfbridge will be overturned on appeal in the coming days. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “So I’ve heard,” she said slowly, her eyes piercing. “I have some… concerns. You see, I had a chance to visit with magistrate Gerold last night after I heard what you were up to. He was a bit tight lipped, but I’ve known him for a long time. If he thought I was going to be happy with this deal of yours, he would have been much more willing to share.” She frowned at him in feigned confusion. “Didn’t you say you were looking to develop a more productive relationship with us? This is not the way to do it.”

  “What do you mean?” Therion protested. He didn’t like the Alchemists’ Guild and he didn’t trust them, but he did want them off his back. That said, he wasn’t about to stand up to either Archmage Thurdred or the magistrate on their behalf. He leaned forward, not having to work very hard to inject irritation into his voice.

  “Look, I didn’t write the magistrate’s new regulations, I just used what influence I have to make sure Julian could get his old shop back! Do you even have any idea what it took to get what I did? Do you imagine I can dictate policy to the government? To Archmage Thurdred? Who do you think I am?!”

  The master alchemist rocked back a half step at his tone, pursing her lips when he was done and eyeing him appraisingly. Then, apparently deciding that he was being truthful, she grimaced and turned away muttering to herself. “Hmm. That old weasel. Already had us cornered with the reagents. Should have seen that coming...” She marched back down the footpath toward the street, still grumbling and without offering so much as a simple goodbye.

  “Thanks for coming by!” Prisca called after her, her voice sugary sweet – a stark contrast to her demeanor moment before. She slammed the door and rolled her eyes.

  “What a bitch.”

  While she went to get dressed, Therion brewed up a pot of coffee. The sun finally rose as he did so, letting warm rays of golden light pool on the table as he poured. Heavy, shuffling steps announced the arrival of his father, looking rumpled and yawning as he entered the room.

  “Dad?” Therion asked “How did you sleep?”

  Garius flopped down into a chair, stretched, ran a hand through his disheveled hair and grinned. It was a comfortable, easy expression he hadn’t seen on the man in a long time.

  “Morning! I… ah, well, I can’t really remember, actually.” He took a sip of his coffee and sighed. “I feel great!”

  “Dad?” Prisca asked, coming in and echoing Therion’s question. “Did it work?”

  “Yeah, I think so. Who was that at the door?”

  As they started a lively discussion about what exactly might have possessed Theresa to come knocking at their door at such an early hour of the morning, Therion felt muscles that he didn’t know he had unclench in his neck and chest.

  Everything was going to be alright. Halfbridge had its top-ranked ranger back. His sister could finish her apprenticeship, and he could become a magister. No matter what happened now, they, at least, would be ready.