There was a brief delay at Yhakobin’s door the following morning. When the guards finally led him inside, he saw that the alchemist was not alone. A very tall bearded man dressed in a red surcoat stood by the little painted tent at the far end of the room. His eyes were black and hard, and he fixed Alec with a sharp look as he took his usual place near the anvil. The stranger spoke with Yhakobin for a moment, looking at Alec all the while. When they were finished, Yhakobin turned to Alec and smiled.

“You are looking very well! Let me have my drop first.” Yhakobin was in unusually high spirits today and Alec wondered if it had anything to do with the mysterious visitor.

Alec held out his finger, uncomfortably aware of the stranger’s intense gaze.

Yhakobin pricked it and repeated the blood spell. This time the flame burned a vivid blue and lasted for some moments. He spoke to the visitor again, obviously pleased.

Apparently satisfied, the other man bowed and took his leave.

“Excellent! Better even than I’d dared hope,” said Yhakobin.

Alec wasn’t sure if he was referring to the color of the blood flame or his visitor’s reaction to it. “If I may, Ilban, who was that man?”

“That, my young friend, was Duke Theris Urghan, cousin to and legate of his Majesty, the Overlord. He was here inquiring after my progress with you. And I must say, I was able to give him a very good report.” He took Alec’s chin between his fingers and inspected his face closely, turning it this way and that. “Oh yes, much better than expected. And I daresay you’re feeling quite well, too.”

The alchemist’s elation made Alec nervous. What was it Yhakobin was seeing that pleased him so much? Alec thought of those who’d left their names on the door. Had they seen this same gleam in the man’s eyes?

“My, you are serious today.” Yhakobin took a polished metal mirror from one of the tables and held it up in front of him. “See what I’ve done for you, boy, and show a bit of gratitude.”

Alec took one look and let out a choked gasp, shocked at the stranger he saw in the reflection. Far from growing pale from lack of meat, his coloring had heightened. His eyes looked bluer, and his hair, though lank from lack of washing, seemed to shine a brighter gold.

But that wasn’t the only change. He looked more ’faie somehow, as if the very planes of his face had been altered.

“I don’t understand!” he gasped, touching his cheek with superstitious awe. “What have you done to me, Ilban?”

Yhakobin held out the daily draught to him, but Alec balled his fists on his knees and shook his head. “Why do I look different?”

“Not so different, and nothing that will do you the least bit of harm, as I promised. I am a man of my word, Alec. Behave now, and drink this without a fuss. It’s far too valuable to spill.”

“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, snout-shaped outlets, each shedding drops of something into a small, three-legged cauldron covered in raised symbols.

“The distillation vessel is one of the more common implements. One of our great arts is that of refining and transformation. It was an alchemist who discovered the smelting of iron from base ore a great many years before our ancestors came to this part of the world. Others perfected the elegant balance of alloys to create hard steel, bronze, and other high metals. And we discovered the combinations of metal, symbols, and auspicious hours that give power to objects, such as that amulet you’re wearing.

“But most importantly, we learned to extract powerful medicines from metals, minerals, common animal matter, and herbs. These tinctures I’ve given you are of that nature. They cleave to and bind impure energies in your blood, so that they can be removed by the natural functions of the body.” He smiled. “In that way. I have been your physician. Or, if you prefer, your body has been like one of my distillation vessels. By combining the right elements under the proper conditions, I have transformed you into what you saw in the mirror.”