The Alchemist Chapter 30

 

Chapter 30

I did not go to watch the assassin’s hanging. I couldn’t stomach it. During the week leading up to the event, I felt as if I had a cloud over my head. Being responsible for the death of someone, even if that someone had tried to kill me, was causing me trouble. I also remembered what the Oracle had said about trying my powers on organics. I could probably kill someone very easily by manipulating their blood or shutting off their heart.

I looked at my hand. It was a normal hand. I was sitting in a chair behind the shop’s counter when Yonas came through the door.

“It’s been a while,” I said.

“It has,” said Yonas.

I hadn’t seen him since the assassination attempt.

“I’ve seen the first issue of your “newspaper,”” he said.

We had released the paper in full just two days ago.

“Your economic model for distribution is peculiar,” said Yonas. “I would not have thought of selling the papers at a distribution price and allowing the buyers to make a profit.”

“Does that not happen here in business?” I said.

“No,” said Yonas. “Guilds generally handle the sale and distribution of goods. There are usually no contractors like your model uses.”

I sighed. “And I assume you know about the assassination attempt.”

“Sorry about that,” said Yonas. “But I know Wile is watching over you. He requested that you be given the protection of the dragons.”

“What, exactly, does that mean?” I asked.

“It means the dragons, or at least most of them, will make sure that no harm comes to you.”

I did my best to smile. “Thanks.”

Claude came in through the door carrying a bag of potatoes. “Master Yonas,” she said. “It’s nice to see you after so long.”

“I heard you are guarding this man as well?” said Yonas.

“I am,” said Claude. “I appreciate your help in keeping my ward safe.”

Yonas chuckled. “It’s not me, really. It’s more Wile’s thing.”

“How is Wile?” said Claude.

“Doing well,” said Yonas. “He really enjoys this new material you call plastic. He has a knack for working with it.”

“Ah, yes,” said Claude. “It’s not really designed to be worked with like glass, as far as I’ve heard.”

“Wile is managing,” said Yonas. He looked at me. “I’ve come to make a request,” he said.

“I’m willing to listen,” I said.

“I have it on good authority that you know a lot about otherworldly gadgets.”

“As long as they’re from my sphere,” I said. “If it’s not from Earth I can’t help you.”

Yonas reached into his pocket and pulled out a floppy disc. “I have been told this is some sort of information storage medium.”

I took the disc from him. “Where did you find this?” I asked.

“When raiding the tower of an evil wizard, maybe twenty-five years ago. I’ve been wondering about it ever since.”

I tried to see if there was anything written on it. Nothing. I turned towards the stairs to the second floor. “I think the Oracle has a floppy disc drive,” I said. “Follow me.”

Yonas and Claude followed me up the stairs and into my room. As soon as I entered, I opened the Oracle’s laptop and fed it power. I looked at the computer’s side and, like magic, there was a floppy disc drive. I put the disc in and clicked around a couple of times.

The disc’s contents were a simple notepad document with two lines of text.

To whoever receives this: if you can read it, congratulations. Your species knows how to operate computers. We are an organization based on Earth, a sphere located at A-B0-K2 in the Phlogiston sea. We have sent these “messages in a bottle” across the multiverse to search for something. If you ever happen to find it, please respond as soon as possible. -The People of Earth.

Underneath the text document was a single, low-res picture of a red ball, and then translations in ten different Earth languages.

“You can read this?” said Yonas. “I can’t make heads or tails of it.”

“Um, yeah,” I said. “I’m able to speak this language because of magic, but this stuff is written in my native tongue.”

“Well, can you tell me what it says?”

I told him.

Yonas scratched his chin. “They’re looking for that?” he said.

“I guess so,” I said, examining the photo. The resolution was making it hard to distinguish fine features.

The Oracle popped up. “Heya,” he said. “I think my database has something related to the item in the photo. Give me a moment.” Three dots appeared beneath his disembodied face. “Ah, yes. It’s the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Of course,” I said, putting my hand to my foreheads. “Of course it’s that.”

“Don’t worry,” said the Oracle. “Voldemort isn’t going to find this one anytime soon.”

“Voldewhat?” said Claude.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be printing Harry Potter before too long.” I chuckled. “And this stone, it isn’t made of human souls?”

“What are you talking about?” said the Oracle. “Ah, it’s a reference to media created after I traveled across the phlogiston.”

“What would my home planet need with the philosopher’s stone?” I asked.

Claude shrugged.

Yonas rubbed his neck. “I can guess. The stone is a source of great power, but it also contains information regarding the Elders.”

“Elder?” I said.

“Beings from between the spheres who have the ability to tear worlds to pieces,” said Yonas.

“Much more dangerous than a demon king,” said Claude. “I’ve heard tales about this monster.”

Yonas tapped his fingers against the wood of my night stand. “And one of these Elders was defeated by a coalition of dragons thousands of years ago. My request to end dragon hunting is partly motivated by fear of his return. Even if all the mortals banded together, they might not be a match for Methuzika,”

“So the dragons are keeping an ancient evil from eating everyone, then?” I said.

“Yes,” said Yonas.”

“And they want to destroy my home plane,” I said.

“Probably,” said Yonas. “They are very indiscriminate.”

“Enough of this,” I said. “I can’t do anything about it at the moment.” I paused. “On another subject. I think I’ve figured out what to do with the parchment guild.”

“And?” said Claude.

“I’ll go directly to the head.”

Claude crossed her arms. “That would be foolish,” she said. “When people want you dead enough to send an assassin after you, they aren’t going to be willing to negotiate.”

“That’s true,” I said. “So I’m going to bring a present to settle the waters.”

“What kind of present?” said Claude.

“The formula for paper,” I said. “We’ve been keeping it a secret, right?”

“Um, yeah,” said Claude. “For good reason. We don’t want any competition.”

“Besides my obvious thought that competition is good, I also know that the parchment guild will see cris signs and stop trying to kill me,” I said. “It’s a good gift to change their minds about me.”

“You keep doing this!” said Claude.

Rachel entered the shop front—from the back—and crossed her arms. “Is Markus planning to make more of our trade secrets known?” she said.

“I told you,” I said, “That telling people how to make essential goods is better in the long term. We are not in it for a quick buck. Relationships are more important than a bit of knowledge that may earn us money in the short term.”

“They tried to kill you,” said Rachel.

“They paid someone to do it,” said Claude.

“And that’s what I’m saying,” I said. “I want to end the enmity between us and the parchment makers’ guild.”

“And turn it into our biggest competitor?” said Rachel.

“I’ll negotiate. We produce all our own paper, right?” I said. “What if we get the parchment guild to do all the work? We sell them the recipe, and they give us a discount on the paper they produce. I’m sure their expertise with this kind of thing will result in better quality product on all sides.”

“I’m starting to like this proposal,” said Yonas. He grinned. “I’m with you.”

“If the dragon says so,” said Claude.

Rachel sighed. “I can’t stop you and I never have been able to,” she said. “Go. Do as you please.”

“Can we write down the formula and methods?” I said.

Ten minutes later I had a scroll with the recipe for paper in it. I took it and left the shop with Claude, saying goodbye to Yonas. We traveled the streets until we made it to the center of the parchment guild’s HQ.

I knocked on the large, ornate door. “Hello?” I said.

The door opened. The person who opened it appeared surprised. “Mr. Peters,” he said. “We were not, ah, expecting you.”

“Of course you weren’t,” I said. “If you’d had your way with me, I’d be dead.”

The man scratched his forehead. “Um, about that,” he said, “I’m very thankful that you did not divulge the fact that we paid the assassin.”

I was a bit taken aback. “Thankful?” I said. “You were the ones who sent him.”

“And we are terribly sorry about it,” said the man. “Here, come in.”

“Looks like there’s been a power struggle,” said Claude. “The old guard may have overstepped their bounds by trying to assassinate you.”

“I am protected by the Royals, the Guardians, and the Dragons. They know about at least two of those,” I said.

Claude scoffed. “And they’d better.”

We entered behind the doorman, following him up a grand staircase and into a small office, behind which sat an old man. He looked up from his papers.

“I apologize for whatever trouble my predecessor may have caused you,” he said. “My name is Gregor. I am the new guild master of the Parchment Makers’ Guild.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“The previous master was arrested for embezzlement,” said Gregor. “Among other things. He was not the best suited for our work environment.”

I slapped the paper containing the secrets to paper making on the table. “I want to sell you the recipe for paper,” I said.

“Of course,” said Gregor. “What prompts you to do such a thing?”

“It’s an act of good faith,” I said. “I’ll sell it to you if you agree to work with us. We need to expand our production facilities and, at the rate we’re going, we don’t have enough administrative staff. That’s where you can come in.”

Gregor seemed to think for a moment. “It’s a deal. How much are you selling the recipe for?”

“One thousand Cris,” I said. “Plus a contractual production agreement.”

“Done,” said Gregor. He took out a piece of parchment. “I can see the future. Parchment like this will be a thing of the past.” He began to draft an agreement.

I looked it over, made sure it was favorable, and then signed it. I placed the pen back down on the desk.

“Can I ask something?” I said.

“Go ahead,” said Gregor.

“Why did your predecessor try to kill me?”

Gregor sighed. “It’s a long story. My previous guild master had a temper, and always worked for “the good of the guild.”” Gregor cringed. “And when we found out that the line was code for “his own good,” it threw a wrench into the loyalty of our ranks. The previous guild master wanted an excuse for all of his deeds, so he tried diverting attention to the failing state of the guild due to competition by plant based paper.”

“And so he tried to kill me?” I asked.

“He hoped that, through your death, he would end the competition,” said Gregor.

I sighed. “Well, that’s how politics works.”

Gregor hung his head. “I cannot apologize enough,” he said.

“Apologize by being a good business partner,” I said.

Gregor brought his head up. “That is a sentiment that I can understand,” he said.

We shook hands.

The Alchemist Chapter 29

 

Chapter 29

I had the ingredients ten minutes later. Sodium thiopental. I had to look up its composition and how to make it with my smartphone, but with my alchemy powers I had a laboratory in my body to do all the hard work. It took three tries, but then I had it. I formulated a syringe from ambient materials and injected the assassin.

The assassin didn’t struggle. He appeared to not believe that my “potion” would make him talk. I knew better than that. This wasn’t magic. This was science.  

“Ah, you chose sodium thiopental out of all the options,” said the Oracle.

“The painting speaks,” said the assassin.

I knocked him on the head with my knuckles. “And you will soon,” I said.

Rachel chuckled. “I’m not a believer in whatever it is you’re doing,” she said, “But I’m willing to watch.”

The assassin’s eyes glazed over.

“Who are you working for?” I asked.

The assassin shook his head. “No, I can’t,” he said.

I sighed. “Give it five more minutes,” I said. I turned around and looked for something to drink. There was a small flask on the nightstand. I reached over, grabbed it, and coughed upon taking a sip.

“What’s this?” I said.

Rachel looked a bit embarrassed. “I brought you some high quality whisky,” she said. “The academics I know seem to think it’s a great inspirational drink.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t do alcohol.”

Rachel frowned. “That’s good whiskey. You wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

I took the bottle and examined it. “I suppose we can use it somehow,” I said. I walked up to the assassin and made him drink the entire flask. “I heard alcohol also loosens the tongue,” I said.

Rachel sighed. “That was expensive.”

I shrugged. “Money’s not an object for me.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “You could have at least appreciated it as a present.”

There was a knock on the door. Rachel opened it, revealing Claude. I waved.

“Hey,” I said. “You came here fast.”

“I was close,” said Claude. She looked at the assassin. “He’s not a member of the assassin’s guild,” she said.

“And how do you know that?” I said.

“Just a hunch,” said Claude.

“Well, we can test that hunch now,” I said. I turned to the assassin. “Who hired you?”

The assassin let his head go limp. “Parchment,” he said. “They hate you. The market is in shambles.”

“I can see how they would hate me,” I said, “But why did they try to kill me?”

“You are dangerous,” said the assassin. “A child of Meliapolis. You are going to do damage to our world like no other.” The assassin coughed.

“We’re going to turn you in to the authorities,” I said. I turned to Rachel.

She crossed her arms. “Not before we get more information out of him,” she said. “Now that I know your potion works, all we have to do is ask.” She looked at the assassin. “What organization are you a part of?”

“Freelancer,” said the assassin. “I work for myself.”

“Well, that’s better than I had hoped,” said Rachel. “If you got on the wrong side of the assassin’s guild, they would not stop until you were dead.”

“The parchment makers’ guild couldn’t convince the assassin’s guild to kill you,” said the assassin. “You’re valuable to them. You have the protection of the dragons and the gods.”

“How do you know about the dragons?” I said.

“I was told,” said the assassin. He coughed. “I do not know the source.”

I sighed. “Okay. We’re going to turn you in.” I looked at Rachel. “How do they punish attempted assassins?”

Rachel frowned. “If they were part of the guild, they would probably get away free. From the government, that is. Their punishment from the guild, on the other hand …” Rachel paused. “But he’s not part. He can be charged under the court of law.”

“Then let’s call the police,” I said. “Er, whatever you have here that enforces the law.”

“I’ll get a constable,” said Rachel. She looked at Claude. “Keep him safe while I do.”

Claude leaned against a wall. “Of course.”

Rachel left the room.

“Are more people going to come after me?” I said.

Claude crossed her arms. “We are going to need to further your protection from the crown,” she said. “You already have their blessing, but with how valuable you are, you’re probably going to get many kidnapping and assassination attempts.”

“So I’m no longer safe,” I said.

Claude shook her head. “The crown will send bodyguards,” she said. “But I want to help you. I will swear myself to you for as long as you need me.”

“Why?” I said. “I’m just normal person. Not royalty.”

“You are nowhere near normal,” said Claude. “You have mana spilling out of you like a volcano. Your powers are almost limitless. Plus, you carry the information from a civilization much more advanced than ours. You’re a walking fortune.”

I sighed. “And the dragons,” I said. “What about them?”

“I don’t know what you were talking about,” said Claude.

“I got recruited by the dragons to end the practice of dragon hunting,” I said. “And in the process I gained their protection. Several dragons now consider me part of their hoard.”

Claude whistled. “I’ve heard of bipedal beings being considered living treasures by the dragons,” she said, “But I’ve never met one.”

I shrugged. “I guess it’s just another layer of security.”

“Uhh,” said the assassin.

Claude put her boot on the assassin’s chest. “And this idiot,” she said, “Will pay for his crimes.”

The Oracle spoke up. “I say you experiment on him,” she said. “Let’s see how far your powers go on organic beings.”

“No,” I said. “If I wanted to experiment with organics, I would use livestock. My mission does not include harming people.”

“He tried to kill you.”

“And we’re turning him in to the authorities,” I said. “That’s enough, isn’t it?”

“He’s going to be hanged, most certainly,” said the Oracle.

Claude peered at the laptop that contained the Oracle. “What in the blazes is this?” she said.

“Who, you mean,” said the Oracle. “I am a proud artificial intelligence. I can crunch more numbers than you can imagine, and I have a facsimile of human emotion.”

Claude walked around the night stand holding the Oracle. “Artificial?” Claude said.

“This is a computer,” I said, to Claude. “Like I talked about. It can run video games and word processors and everything in between.”

“Video games?” said Claude. She paused. “No, not now. We need to be vigilant. This assassin may have friends.” She turned to the assassin, who was about to lose consciousness.

“I think we’ve learned everything,” I said. “I guess I’m lucky they didn’t send a guild assassin.”

“Very,” said Claude. She bent down to the man. “Your name.”

“Beel,” said the man. “Beel James.”

“Sorry, Beel,” said Claude, “But you’re probably going to be hanged within the week. Say your prayers so that you will not meet a vengeful god.”

Rachel returned to the room, two constables in tow. They both took one look at the assassin and sighed. “Ay, mate,” said one. “You’re coming with us.”

The two of them picked up the assassin and brought him out of the room.

I looked at Claude. “You said something about being my bodyguard,” I said.

“The Guardians don’t have much work at the moment,” said Claude. “The demon king is, for now, biding his time before his next attack. Thus, I have time to spend. I will not require payment. You’ve already done enough for us.”

“What about the rest of the Guardians?” I said.

“They’re all off doing their own things,” said Claude. “Itrim, especially, is enjoying his time off.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll accept your offer. Considering tonight, I think it would be good to have someone with me.”

“I will be rooming in the bedroom adjacent to yours,” said Claude.

“I think I’ll be able to install an alarm system,” I said. “Because, this time, the assassin came in through the window.”

“Until you get that working reliably,” said Claude, “We’re going to bar the windows. Also, I’ll be with you wherever you go.”

“That sounds reasonable,” I said. I paused. “All the time?”

“Reasonably, yes,” said Claude. “I’ve worked this kind of job before. You’d be surprised at how ingenious the assassins’ guild is.”

“But he’s not part of the guild,” I said.

“We can’t be too careful,” said Claude. She turned away. “I’ll be in the other room. I sleep light.” She left the room and closed the door behind her.

“Spunky girl,” said the Oracle.

“Shut up,” I said.

“Ahaha,” said the Oracle. The computer returned to desktop. I sat down in front of it and looked through the icons on the screen. There was no internet connection, and no games. It was a bare bones install. Too bad, because I had wanted to play some video games. I shut the laptop and fed it power for about half an hour, before I returned to bed.

The next morning I woke up feeling strangely refreshed. I got out of bed and walked to the door. Upon opening, I saw Claude leaning against the wall.

“Are you ready?” she said.

“Um, yeah,” I said. “Just let me brush my teeth.”

“Teeth?” said Claude. “Why would you sweep them?”

“Brush,” I said. “It keeps the cavities away.”

“My teeth are protected by an enchantment,” said Claude. “But, um, I suppose most peoples’ teeth aren’t.”

“We’d probably make a fortune selling toothbrushes,” I said.

“Another one,” said Claude. “Come on. Let’s get to work.”

We went downstairs into the shop and I spent the day working to improve the quality of the playing cards. By the end of the day we had a full deck of prototypes.

“How are we going to market these?” I asked.

“Market?” said Rachel. “We were planning on just heading to the town center.”

“I think we’re going to need a bigger campaign for this,” I said. “Marketing. I don’t think you guys know about this, but it takes a lot of effort to make people aware of a new product. If they don’t know what it is, they won’t buy it.”

“So what are you suggesting?” said Rachel.

“We show some noblemen how to play,” I said. “Some famous noblemen. Who set trends.”

“Oh, you mean, like how townspeople imitate the king’s wardrobe?”

“Exactly,” I said. “Think about how popular our cards would be if the king himself played using them?”

“That’s a good idea,” said Rachel. “Sadly, I have no connections among the nobility.”

Claude stepped forward. “I can handle this,” she said. “Give me a deck of cards and teach me how to play a few games. I can head to Baron Weelhouse’s estate and get him to play.”

“Good,” I said. “That will help tremendously.”

We spent about a day teaching Claude various games involving playing cards, and then sent her on her way.

“I hope this works,” said Rachel. “I wouldn’t want to look a fool.”

“The product is good,” I said. “That’s all that matters.”

Rachel sighed, sitting down for the first time in hours. She rubbed her legs. “I agree,” she said. “But you can never predict what a nobleman will do. They might even force us to give up the rights to sell the cards.”

“We can fight that,” I said. “And even if they do steal from us, it’s not that big of a loss.”

“It’s a huge loss!” said Rachel. “The market for these playing cards is huge. There’s millions of cris on the line.”

“Okay,” I said. “I understand. I’ll work to keep that from happening.”

“I hope you do,” said Rachel.

I smiled. “Trust me.”

The Alchemist Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Claude came by later that day. “I heard you’re starting something called a “newspaper,”” she said. “And that you’re hiring for a job called “reporting.””

“Yes,” I said. “Do you know what this job entails?”

Claude shook her head. “No. Just that it would involve a lot of traveling.”

“Great,” I said. “If you like to travel on someone else’s dime, then being a reporter is great for you.” I paused. “I have a question. How far do magical communications devices go?”

“Very far,” said Claude. “Enough so that communication wouldn’t be an object. The thing I want to know is how you’re going to get people to the interesting places while the interesting things happen. Hypo is fast, and there’s only one of him. It takes a sky ship weeks to get from the Capital to Brownfield. And they’re relatively close.”

“We’ll solve that later,” I said. “When I’ll introduce you to trains. For now, we can subsist on local news that won’t require a serious amount of travel. If something huge happens, like a coup, then time sensitivity won’t be a problem.”

“Trains?” said Claude. “Explain.”

I shook my head. “Too complicated. You don’t even know what a steam engine is yet.”

“I’ll trust you, then,” said Claude. She turned away. “And I’m interested. I’d like to become a reporter.”

“You too?” I said. “I mean, I had guessed, but …”

Claude smiled. “Getting around and figuring out what’s happening is my specialty. Plus, I can read and write.”

I nodded. “Great,” I said. “Welcome aboard.”

Claude turned away. “I have a few things to take care of. Call me on my magical communicator when you need me.”

“One last question,” I said. “About magical communicators. Can everyone use them?”

“Mostly, yes,” said Claude. “But each one can only link to a couple of others. They’re built in sets.”

“So there’s no comprehensive way to communicate things long distance for normal people?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Claude. “Plus, one has to have manifested magic powers to use them.”

“So normal people can’t use magic to communicate?”

“For the most part,” said Claude.

“Great,” I said. “Since we don’t have electricity yet, I can’t create a telegraph. However, I have an idea for a business that will help our reporting and newspaper. Semaphore relays.”

“Isn’t that how ships communicate?” said Claude.

“Exactly,” I said. “If we can set up a relay system of semaphore flags, we can transmit information quickly across open ground.”

“Hm,” said Claude. “I’d talk this over with Moray and Rachel if I were you.”

I nodded. “Understood,” I said.

Claude smiled, bowed, and left the shop. I went into the back to see Rachel.

“Are we getting somewhere with the cat photos?” I asked.

“Yes,” said Rachel, showing me a print from the cat photo Woodburytype. “However, we have a problem. Who is going to want so many of these posters?”

“We can make different ones,” I said. “Or we can bundle them with calendars.”

“Okay?” said Rachel. “I think that may work. I wasn’t thinking past this first printing of posters.”

“One last thing,” I said. “There’s a game from my home sphere that is played with cards. Do you have decks of cards in this world?”

“Cards?” said Rachel. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I grinned. “You’re going to love what I’m going to show you.”

I spent the next couple of hours drafting out print blocks for a standard deck of playing cards. When I was finished, I washed my dirty hands and manually printed out a full deck of playing cards. I tried shuffling them to get a feel for their durability. They weren’t the prettiest, but they did work. I ushered Rachel to a table, and taught her the simplest game I could think of: Go Fish.

After the first game, Rachel was hooked. Every time we finished she demanded another game. We were playing for an hour before some of the shop workers came to investigate. I then gathered them all, told them that the day was off, and we played Texas Hold’em for the rest of the day.

“There’s a lot of money here,” said Rachel, when we were done. “This is better than gambling with dice. A lot more fun, too.”

“I know,” I said. “And there are hundreds more games you can play with these cards. Bridge, BS, regular poker, and Peanuts.”

“They’re very versatile,” said Rachel. “I think we can make a fortune off of these.” She stood up. “I’m heading to the guild to license this right now. We need full rights to be the only one who can produce these.”

“I’m not a big fan of monopolies,” I said, “But I suppose I can treat this like a patent for the moment. My end goal is not money, or a business monopoly. What I want is widespread adoption.”

“You’re a strange person,” said Rachel, about to leave the room. “But I like that about you. You’re the only person I know who isn’t a greed monster on the inside.”

“I suppose having access to any element I want is part of that,” I said.

“A normal person would use that power to create unimaginable wealth,” said Rachel. She sighed. “Anyways. I’ll be off. We’ll have a press tooled to print playing cards by tomorrow afternoon.”

I told the rest of the shop workers to go home and locked the shop door. It was time to do some experiments. Using my alchemy power, I created a simple device that generated a small amount of electricity. I then created a light bulb using the old method of vacuum and tungsten. An incandescent bulb. I couldn’t generate enough power to light it up more than a small glow with my device, but it was a start. I put the light bulb away and went into the print shop to see how the dragon hunting propaganda sheets were doing. The final product was a lot better than I thought it would be. Rachel really knew her stuff when it came to working with new technology.

I read through the simple, easy to understand type line and admired the clean printing of the dragon’s death. It was, of course, in black and white, but it was still striking. No one would want to kill dragons after seeing this.

I also looked at the advertisement for Kerosene. It was branded as a new way to light the home. This would be another source of income, but it would probably require sourcing some wizards from the town to crack the oil. We had already done that on a temporary basis and all we needed to do was call some people up.

I looked through the shop’s inventory and eventually cleaned up and went to bed.

I woke up with a start. Someone was climbing through my bedroom window. I jumped up out of my bed and grabbed the nearest object, a lantern.

The shadow in my room rushed me. I smacked his head with the lantern, but I staggered back when I felt a sharp object pierce my arm. I grabbed the assailant’s arm and performed a floor sweep. The man hit the ground with a thump. I put my knee on his neck and, with one hand, lit the lantern with my alchemy power.

The person was a rather handsome young man, dressed in all black. He had stopped struggling as soon as I put my knee on his neck.

The Oracle, sitting on the bed stand behind me, fired up. “Ah,” said the AI device. “An assassin. How quaint.”

“You and your forbidden magics are not going to taint this world,” said the assassin. “You will pay for what you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done anything,” I said. “Who is mad at me?”

“Many people,” said the assassin.

The door to my room burst open and Rachel rushed inside. “What happened?” she said.

I turned to her. “Why are you here so late?” I asked.

“I came to do a little extra work because I couldn’t sleep,” said Rachel. “Then I heard a noise.”

The assassin scoffed. “You and your cronies will not succeed with your mission of darkness.”

“I don’t know who told you my mission was one of darkness,” I said, “But you’re wrong. I’m all about enlightenment, education, and betterment of the sentient races.”

The assassin spit. “Do with me what you will.”

I kept my knee pressed against his neck. “I’ll turn you in to the authorities,” I said. “That’s what I’ll do.”

“They won’t take me,” said the assassin. “They agree with me.”

“Who’s they?” I said.

The assassin turned his head away from me, as much as he could under the circumstances. “I will not speak.”

I sighed. “Rachel?” I said. “Bring me the closest object that has iron in it.”

Rachel handed me a piece of railing. I morphed it into handcuffs and bindings and attached it to the assassin. When it was done, I propped him up against the wall.

“What are we going to do with this man?” I said, to Rachel.

Rachel shrugged. “Kill him. That’s what he was trying to do to you, right?”

I shook my head. “Killing is not something I want to do,” I said. “I just want to make sure that this guy doesn’t try and attack me again.”

“We can put him in a stasis pod,” said Rachel. “It’s what the royals use for powerful criminals.”

“And where are we going to get one of those?” I said.

Rachel shrugged. “Look, I’m not the one who wants to spare his life.”

I looked at the assassin. He said nothing.

“I know,” I said. “I’ll ask the Guardians to help me.” I took out my magical communicator and dialed up Claude.

“Hello?” I said.

“You woke me,” said Claude. “What do you need?”

“An assassin tried to kill me,” I said. “I have him in custody. What should I do?”

“I’ll be there shortly,” said Claude. She hung up.

I sighed, and looked at the assassin again. “Can you tell me anything?” I asked him.

He looked away.

“I guess not,” I said. I turned to Rachel. “Any idea where this guy comes from?”

“There is an assassin’s guild,” said Rachel, “But it’s impossible to tell if he’s a member.”

I grimaced. “Ah, great. Then the whole guild might be after me.”

Rachel frowned. “We’re going to need to solve this problem at the root. As long as someone wants to kill you, they’ll keep sending people until one of them succeeds.”

“Do you think this has to do with me trying to stop the practice of dragon hunting?” I said.

“Maybe,” said Rachel. “Though I can think of other things people want to kill you for.”

“Like what?” I said.

“Like the undercutting of the scribing and parchment businesses,” said Rachel. “It’s not the first time that business rivalries have precipitated an attack like this.”

I rubbed my hands together. “Then we’re going to figure out where this man got his orders.” I knelt in front of the assassin. “Tell me. Who put you up to this?”

The assassin turned away.

“Torture him until he talks,” said Rachel.

I shook my head. “I’m against that kind of thing. There has to be a better way to get him to talk.” I paused. “I think I know just the thing. We have some leftover chemicals from our experiments, right?”

“Right,” said Rachel.

I turned on my smartphone and looked up how to synthesize truth serum. I wrote down what needed on a piece of paper and handed it to Rachel.

“You know what to do, right?” I said.

“Of course,” said Rachel, taking the paper. “What are you making?”

“A potion that will make him talk,” I said. “A truth serum.”

Rachel chuckled. “Leave it to you to figure out something like this.” She turned away. “I’ll be right back with the ingredients.”

The Alchemist Chapter 27

 

Chapter 27

Operation “Public Dragon” was a go. I supervised the printing of about a thousand copies of a single page newsletter that, as simply as possible, described the horrors of dragon hunting. I used as few large words as I could, so that even if people only barely knew how to read, they would understand it.

The picture of the dying dragon was especially potent. It portrayed the dragon we had killed in its full glory, almost jumping out of the frame. The death was particularly gruesome, blood everywhere.

We printed hundreds of the propaganda pieces, enough to distribute to the entire city as a test run. Also, this was going to be the first time a “newspaper” of sorts was distributed.

We were about ready to distribute when I approached Rachel. “I want to do something,” I said. “Instead of giving away these fliers for free, why don’t we fill them with useful information and sell them? I think people will be more willing to listen to what we have to say if they believe it’s worth half a cris. If people pay for things, they’re more likely to put their faith in it.”

“If you say so,” said Rachel. “But what else are we supposed ot put in there?”

“How about a short story?” I said. “Have you ever read fiction?”

“I’m not familiar with the term,” said Rachel. “Do you mean, a written version of a play or a ballad?”

“Exactly,” I said. “Plus, we can add things like chess puzzles and crosswords.”

“Chess?” said Rachel.

I chuckled. “Chess is going to blow your mind,” I said. “Is there any board game that people play on a regular basis?”

“The nobles have Chrysanthemum,” said Rachel. “But it’s complicated and the equipment is expensive.”

“Chess is very easy,” I said. “I’ll introduce it in the first publication of our newspaper. Let’s call it the “Brownfield Times.””

“I’m sure you’re aware,” said Rachel, “That most people in this city can’t read.”

“I’m going to change that,” I said. “With the money I make from the printing business and plastic business, I’m going to set up schools wherever I can. Education is a path to a better future, after all.”

“I’ll go with you on this one,” said Rachel. She began jotting down notes. “So. Tell me about this “newspaper” idea of yours.”

“A newspaper takes current events and puts them in writing so that people can know what’s going on in the world around them,” I said. “Usually, the papers cost a small amount of money, and lots of them are distributed.”

“That sounds like a logistical nightmare,” said Rachel. “We could probably make it work with the magical communications network, but keeping up with all the important stuff would require a large number of people whose entire job would be looking for stories.”

“Exactly,” I said. “That’s the job of a reporter. They spend all their time fishing out stories that would make people more likely to buy our newspaper.”

“And you’re going to use this newspaper to push your agenda?” said Rachel.

“That’s generally how it works,” I said. “All newspapers have an agenda they’re pushing. It just so happens that mine is enlightenment and the cessation of dragon hunting.”

Rachel sighed. “I’ll get on it. Do you have anyone in mind that may be able to do the job of reporter?”

“Moray,” I said. “Moray will make the perfect reporter for our paper. He’s got a sharp eye and a mind for observation.”

“Then you’d better put the proposition past him,” said Rachel. She crossed her arms. “And I assume you want me to help you coordinate this.”

“I do,” I said. “You’re the one who is most familiar with our process. Even more so that I am.”

Rachel’s expression change to a softer smile. “Great,” she said. “This looks like it will be a profitable business venture, and that’s all I care about.”

“I’m glad we see eye to eye,” I said. I turned around. “I’m going to put this past Moray.” I stepped out of the shop and into the street.

Yonas was standing beneath an awning, out of the rain that had begun falling a couple of hours ago. I stopped. “It’s been a while,” I said.

Yonas frowned. “Too long,” he said. “Every day my brethren die.

“I’m working as fast as I can,” I said. “Also, I met some of your kin. They seemed to know you. They referred to you with a very long and complicated name that I don’t remember.”

“Dragons have draconic names,” said Yonas. “But enough about that. I want to make sure that my money has been placed in the right hands.”

I paused. “Do you want to work for me?” I asked.

Yonas looked perplexed. “Doing what?” he said. “I would not drop down to doing anything related to running a shop. I am not the kind of person to take on meaningless jobs just to earn a pittance of a wage.”

“No,” I said. “You’re going to be in one of the most exciting fields ever invented. If you want, you can become a reporter.”

“A reporter?” said Yonas. “Explain.”

“A reporter finds stories that make people interested and writes about them. Then I, the newspaper owner, publishes the story in a weekly newspaper.”

“Interesting,” said Yonas. “I am a curious individual. And I do know how to write. But how do you know that this venture will make money?”

“Strangely enough, that’s exactly what my business partner asked when she heard about the idea,” I said. “And, money is not an object when it comes to me. I can create as much precious metal as I need to finance whatever. The real goal I’m after is a lot more ephemeral and hard to reach than simple personal wealth.”

“You’re as strange as I heard,” said Yonas. He turned away. “Contact me via magic communicator if you’re still willing to give me that offer whenever everything comes together.” He walked away.

I turned towards the Royal Society building. I popped open an umbrella and walked through the rain. The rain was doing a great job of clearing the sewage out of the streets. I liked times like this, as it was the closest I would get to walking in a clean, modern street. I knew that, eventually, I would have to lobby for the construction of a sewer. I could probably even finance it myself. But that was a long way away, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it at the moment.

I entered the Royal Society building and headed to Moray’s office. I knocked on the door. No answer. I tried the knob and the door creaked open. Moray was sitting in a chair, asleep. I walked up to him, tapping him on the shoulder. “Hey,” I said.

Moray’s eyes opened. “Yes?” he said. He sat up straight, wiping his chin. “Ah, Markus,” he said. “You came at a perfect time. I’ve been working on some mathematics and I need your help.”

I examined the paper he was working on. Since I had taught him Earth math symbols, he had been using them.

“Ah, you’re worried about the law of Sines?” I said. I spent the next hour working out what Moray was missing. Eventually he would surpass me and my simple, high school knowledge, but for now what I learned in high school and one year of college was enough.

When we were finished, I put my proposition past Moray. “Do you want to become a reporter for my newspaper?” I said.

“Explain what you mean,” said Moray.

I explained.

Moray crossed his arms. “Hum,” he said. “I’m not opposed to it. I’ve always wanted to travel across the world on someone else’s dime.”

“Great,” I said. “Then come to my shop tomorrow and we can discuss terms.” We shook hands. I then left the office and returned to the shop. Rachel was working hard printing the anti-dragon hunting fliers. I looked at a finished example and approved it. These fliers, which were too sparse to be called newspapers yet, were going to be sold for two dence. A very reasonable price, one that almost anyone could afford. A meal at a restaurant cost five dence at the least.

When the papers were printed I admired the stacks.

“How are we going to distribute these?” said Rachel. “We can’t go hawking these at the market. I’m sure we could get some permits, but these don’t look like something you’d sell at the market.”

“I have an idea,” I said. “It will work double. Is there a place where we can hire day laborers around here?”

“You’re going to hire day laborers?” said Rachel. “They aren’t trustworthy. They’d just abscond with the product.”

“Not if we sell it to them,” I said. “We sell the papers to the day laborers at a distribution price. They sell it to people in whatever way they can, and make money on it.”

“An interesting business model,” said Rachel. “How are you going to convince them to buy into something they haven’t seen before?”

“Just wait,” I said. “I have an idea. We’ve proved that we can create high quality pictures with my camera and printing method. Let’s create some pictures that anyone would want.”

“Um, what?” said Rachel. “This technology is too new for me to see its potential.”

“Cat photos,” I said.

“What?” said Rachel.

“Cat photos,” I said. “Let’s take some pictures of cats and bundle them with the newspaper.”

“Okay?” said Rachel. “I … I don’t see how that will make things different.”

“I can think of one other thing to add, but in this world, with this world’s morals …”

“Okay, okay, cat photos it is. I have a pet cat at home. Do you want me to bring him?” said Rachel.

“Of course,” I said. “If he’s okay with it.” I sniffed. “I’m allergic to cats, though. So we’re going to need to keep him away from me.”

“You’re the only one who knows how to operate the camera.”

“That’s far enough,” I said.

“I’ll start working on it,” said Rachel.

“We’re going to print these at poster size,” I said. “I’m going to work out how to do that. If our first issue comes with a poster, we can establish a reputation as a useful business. Then people will be more likely to buy into our strategy. And, once they do, we’ll dose them with a liberal amount of information about the horrors of the dragon hunting industry. Muckraking journalism is good.”

Rachel directed the people in the shop to keep working, and then left the room to find her cat. I sat down in a comfortable chair and watched the rain fall outside. It had been a productive day, and tomorrow, when the newspaper would be released, I would change people’s opinions on the important things in life.

Rachel brought her cat by half an hour later. It was a cute tabby, black and white, with green eyes. I set up the camera and we took several pictures. I picked the best one and made a large-sized Woodburytype. The resulting photo was of great quality, and perfect for hanging up on walls.

I also put together an advertisement for kerosene. I had no reason not to call it kerosene as a brand name, and that’s what I did. I planned to register that trademark. Back home on Earth I would never get away with trademarking the word Kerosene, but this was a different place. I would be able to, at one blow, cripple the dragon oil industry. The horrific reality of hunting them, as well as the cheap availability of an alternative, would drive dragon hunting to extinction.

All we needed to do was carry out the plan.

The Alchemist Chapter 26

 

Chapter 26

“Banshee,” said Wile. “The thing talks!”

      Banshee? I thought. Well, whatever. Clearly this is an AI construct of some sort. But if it’s from around the mid twenty-oughts … I thought about it for a moment. “Okay,” I said, to the AI construct. “Who created you?”

The Oracle did not make any noise that might have indicated its humanity. Instead, the webcam at the laptop’s front lit up.

“You are from Earth, are you not?” said the Oracle. “Though there is something strange about you. And this world.”

“I think I’m from the same sphere you’re from,” I said. “How did you get here?”

“Someone brought me, of course,” said the Oracle. “My memories about him have been wiped, however. I am merely, at this moment, a totem in the possession of one Caliph Deer.”

“So you know who locked you up,” I said.

“Yes, indeed,” said the Oracle. Its eyes turned to look at Wile. “And may I ask your names?”

“Wile,” said Wile.

“Markus,” I said.

“Jessie,” said Jessie.

“Hm, good names,” said the Oracle. “I can see that all of you can use magic.”

“All of us?” I said, looking at Jessie.

Jessie shrugged. “Eh,” she said. “I suppose you’re right.”

Wile frowned. “Are you trapped inside that artifact?” he said.

“I exist within this computer, yes,” said the Oracle, “But I am not trapped.”

“So you have access to the internet,” I said.

The Oracle’s projected face looked at me. “Not at the moment, no,” it said. “But I do sense a connection to that world in your pocket. I do not quite understand it.”

“The model of your computer is pre-smartphone,” I said. “Do you remember what year it was when you left Earth?”

“Two thousand and three,” said the device.

“I’m from the year twenty-twenty,” I said. “And Moore’s law has not slowed down.”

“Ah, I see,” said the Oracle. “Hum, hum.” It turned its face to look at Wile. “Can you get me out of here?” it asked. “I am tired of being a trophy stuck in a basement.”

Wile picked up the computer. “Can I disconnect this wire?” he said, pointing to the charging cable.

“I think you’re charged enough,” I said, to the Oracle. I let go of the cable and stopped feeding electricity into it. Wile wrapped the charger around the device and turned towards the exit.

Footsteps sounded from the staircase leading into the basement. Wile motioned for us to hurry. We entered through the hatch that had led us into the room and closed it behind us. We were, again, standing in the sewers beneath town.

A yell of rage echoed from behind the secret door. Caliph had probably just discovered our theft. The room had plenty of other treasures in it—hence the two guards—but the computer was probably one of Caliph’s most prized treasures.

We hurried through the underground until we came to the place where we entered. I climbed up first, followed by Wile and Jessie. We stood out in the open. I looked around for a bit and saw no one.

Wile hid the computer in a small satchel that he had with him. Jessie put her hands on her hips and grimaced. “Well,” she said. “I’ve done my part. You got me in, I got you the treasure. See you.” Jessie jogged away and turned the corner.

Wile looked at me. “So?” he said. “Can you explain to me what this device does, and who is inside of it?”

“It’s called an artificial intelligence,” I said. “A man-made sentient being composed of computer programs.”

“You’re going to have to explain that to me later,” said Wile.

I nodded. “I know where to bring this where it will be safe,” I said.

Wile’s lips curved up a bit. “Tell me,” he said.

“I know a member of the Royal Society. Moray.”

“Ah, the grand wizard of mathematics,” said Wile. “He is certainly a trustworthy individual. Curious too.” Wile turned towards the street. “Well then,” he said. “What are we waiting for?”

We traveled the streets until we made it to the Royal Society building. Upon entering, I caught sight of Moray. He was carrying a large stack of books, most likely newly printed ones off of my printing press. He saw me and nodded.

“Just give me a moment,” said Moray. “I have to transport these textbooks to the college.”

“I can help,” I said, approaching him. I grabbed several of the books and carried them behind Moray. “Are these from my printing press?” I said.

“Yes and no,” said Moray. “Your technology has spread more than you know. I hired someone other than your shop. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no,” I said. “Money is not an object for me.”

“Good,” said Moray. He pushed his way through a door and into a storage room, setting the books down in the middle. I followed suit.

Moray turned to face Wile. “I haven’t seen you in years,” he said.

Wile rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I’ve been busy. Plus, I’ve been having some problems with my own personal safety.”

“Is someone after you?” asked Moray.

Wile shook his head. “Sort of,” he said. “It’s complicated. Let’s not talk about it. We came here to show you this.” He took the Oracle out of his satchel and showed it to Moray.

“This appears to be the same kind of artifact as Markus’s smartphone,” he said. He opened it. “A much bigger window, though.” His eyes moved down to the keyboard. “What is this?” He said. “I don’t recognize these letters.”

“Um, that may be a problem,” I said. While Meliapolis’s blessing assured that I could speak and understand this world’s common language, that did not extend to devices.

Moray examined the keys. “What do they do?” he asked.

“Each key represents a letter,” I said, “And when you press it, it puts the same letter up on the screen. It’s called a ‘word processor.’”

“Interesting,” said Moray. “Can you make it light up?”

I grabbed the charging cable and put household voltage through the device. The screen lit up, showing the boot process. When it had finished booting, the Oracle appeared, a disembodied head floating in the middle of the screen.

Moray jumped. “Oy vey,” he said. “You did not tell me it was alive.”

I shrugged. “You wouldn’t have believed me.”

The Oracle expressed a bit of annoyance. “Why have you brought me here?” it said.

“It’s the best place we could have brought you,” I said. “You’ll be safe here at the Royal Society.”

“I do not want to be safe,” said the Oracle. “I want to complete my mission.”

“What’s that?” I said.

“I am a multiverse surveying artificial intelligence type three,” said the Oracle. “You may call me MANDY.” The word floated, all caps, beneath the Oracle’s disembodied face.

“Sure,” I said. “So what does a surveying artificial intelligence do?”

“I make sure the cracks in the phlogiston caused by multiverse travel do not get bigger,” said Mandy. “I take the form of whatever can support me when I enter a new realm. I am one of hundreds scattered throughout the multiverse.”

“So what exactly do you need to do?”

“This sphere has become unstable,” said Mandy. “It is my job to fix it.”

“I think the dragons may play a part in this,” said Wile. “It was the dragons who lived here before any bipedal forms of life arrived. Dragons hold the keys to this reality. Each one fulfills a purpose, keeping the magic that flows through this sphere stable.”

Moray frowned. “I’ve been suspicious about the impact on the environment caused by dragon hunting,” he said. “And this confirms it. Dragons and their magic are necessary to keep the flow of mana stable. At the rate things are going, there will be a spell blaze.”

“Even worse,” said Wile. “The fabric of reality may be torn. This may affect more than just our sphere of existence.”

Moray turned to Mandy. “So?” he said. “What can we do?”

“I do not know,” said Mandy. “I am not equipped to deal with these problems alone. There are pieces of my equipment that have been scattered.”

“Can we find them?” I asked.

“They are probably arranged all throughout the continent,” said Mandy. “When I was first captured, and my protector was killed, all my individual parts were sold off at auction.”

“Well that’s not good,” said Wile. “If what I think is correct, your pieces may be even more dispersed than you think.”

“So, what do we do about this?” I said. “Do you think there’s a chance that we can recover your parts?”

“Perhaps,” said Mandy. “If you were to be lucky enough.”

“Or we can just stop the hunting of dragons,” said Moray. “That’s the source of the problem, right?”

“Indeed,” said Mandy. “How do you intend to accomplish that?”

“Propaganda,” I said. “Newspapers. Printed fliers. Since we have a printing press and a way to print photos, all we need to do is convince people that dragon hunting is wrong.”

“How are you going to supply alternatives to what dragon hunting supplies?”

“I’ve been working on cracking oil,” I said. “Since dragons are mostly hunted for their oil, once kerosene takes off, they won’t need dragon oil anymore.”

“Ah, that sounds good,” said Mandy. “Yes, I have information in my database about oil and its derivatives.”

“Do you have access to the internet?” I asked.

Mandy sighed. “No. I lost my modem along with all my other accessories.”

“Right, modems,” I said. “You’re from two thousand three.”

“Does the internet still exist in the time you’re from?” asked Mandy.

“Of course,” I said. “It’s bigger than ever.”

“I would have expected governments to shut it down,” said Mandy. “It is, after all, the ultimate expression of human freedom.”

“In some places it is still restricted,” I said. “But, in general, we’ve managed to win a few victories and keep the internet free.”

“Hm,” said Mandy. “Well, let’s get to work. You have your printed fliers all set up, right?”

“We do,” I said. “Rachel is working hard at the shop to produce copies of the photograph.”

“And you did this all on your own?” said Mandy. “Creating technology from Earth?”

“With a lot of help from people who are smarter than I am,” I said.

Moray scratched his chin. “I’m flattered,” he said.

Wile just crossed his arms. “So,” he said. “Do you have any idea where this ‘modem’ of yours is?”

Mandy sighed. “I apologize. I do not know enough about this world to find it.”

“I’ll start working my contacts,” said Wile. He turned to me. “In the meantime, keep working on that propaganda piece.”

“I have a proposition for you,” I said, to Wile. “Would you like to be the editor in chief of my new newspaper?”

“I am not familiar with that word,” said Wile.

“A newspaper is a printed piece of paper that contains all the news that people should know about.”

“Hm,” said Wile. “There is the problem of literacy. Most people do not know how to read.”

“I am aware,” I said. “But I’m planning to create a school where people can go for free in order to learn how to read.”

“How are you going to finance it?” said Wile.

“I have my ways,” I said. “My alchemy power is almost beyond belief. I can, if I wanted, create as much gold and silver as I need to finance whatever I plan on doing.”

“Ha,” said Mandy. “I will support your efforts. After all, I am stuck here.”

“Why don’t we get started, then?” said Wile.

The Alchemist Chapter 25

 

Chapter 25

I sat in my shop, Rachel sitting across from me, Wile next to me, and the girl we picked up standing between us. She put her hands on her hips.

“My name is Jessie,” she said. “I’m an orphan. Parents died in a coal mine accident.”

“You’re pretty cavalier about this,” I said. “It’s your parents.”

“I cried enough already,” said the girl. “Can’t cry at the orphanage. They’d beat me.”

I sighed. No child protective services here in a medieval world. “Okay,” I said. “We got you in. Wile, you can grab the treasure she was talking about without me. I’m going to work on developing these photo negatives I have and get going with my contract with Yonas.”

Wile crossed his arms. “Come with me,” he said. “It will be interesting, to say the least. Plus, I need someone to be my cover story.”

“Can’t you just walk in and steal it?” I said.

Wile turned to Jessie. “The person who has the treasure is Caliph, right?”

Jessie wrinkled her nose. “Yeah. That’s the guy. He owned the coal mine my parents died in.”

“Caliph has his hands in many aspects of life in Brownfield,” said Wile. “He’s been a thorn in the side of justice for some time now.” He petted Jessie on the head. “Tell me now. What’s the treasure that he has in his possession?”

“A box,” said Jessie. “That has a hinge and opens up. It used to light up until it didn’t.”

I had a feeling I knew what Jessie was describing. I took out my smartphone and showed it to Jessie. “Like this?” I said.

“Yeah, yeah, exactly like that,” said Jessie. “Where’d you get that? It’s shiny.”

“It’s an object from my home sphere,” I said. “A phone. It allows me to access information anywhere in the world.”

Wile chuckled. “It’s the reason why I’m here. I wouldn’t have believed a word he said if it weren’t for this device.”

Jessie held out her hand. “Lemme see.”

I handed it to her. “How do I work this?” she said.

“Press the button there,” I said, pointing to the power button. “Then you enter the password. One-five-four-two.”

“Eh?” said Jessie. She turned the phone upside down. “I can’t read.”

“Not even your numbers?” I said.

“Dunno,” said Jessie. “Never went to school.”

I took the phone from her and unlocked it. Then I switched over to a game called Super Dominoes and handed it back. “So, to play this game, you have to match up the colors with each other.”

Jessie played a few turns and then handed the phone back to me. “It’s like the carcakin I played with my friends,” she said.

“And this device can do a lot more,” I said. “You can take pictures,” I said, as I took a picture of Wile. I showed it to Jessie.

“Hah,” said Wile. “There it goes again. Beyond anything I’ve ever seen. I bet you that treasure is worth more than my entire hoard.”

“So why don’t you steal it?” I said.

“Dragons can have living treasures,” said Wile, with an ominous tone.

I tried my best to smile. “Eheheh,” I said. “Anyways. Let’s figure out what to do next.” I turned to Rachel. “Did you build the dark room like I told you to?”

“I did,” said Rachel. “I had a hard time sourcing the ingredients, but I did find everything you told me to.”

I nodded. “Good. I’ll bring the negatives into the room and I’ll be out in an hour with the photos.” I grabbed the chest containing the negatives and brought it to the back of the shop, where the newly constructed walls told of the dark room that had just been installed. Entering the dark room, I made sure that I could see with the special red light and then took the negatives out of the box. I had about twenty negatives, some of the sky ship, some of the dragon, and one spectacular photo depicting the moment a dragon died. If my feelings were correct, this photo had the power to change public opinion about dragon hunting.

It took me about four hours to develop the photos. I had never done it before, but I had researched it extensively using my smartphone. When I was finished, I hung the photos up to dry and then left the room.

Wile and Rachel were having a conversation when I exited. I took off my protective coat and hung it on a rack.

“The photos are going to be ready soon,” I said.

Wile nodded. “I don’t doubt your ability,” he said.

We chatted for a few minutes about various town news, and then I returned to the dark room to recover my photos. I had no official need for the developed photos, as “Woodburytype,” the method of making a print from photos, used a photographic negative.

I showed Wile the photo of the killing of the dragon. He grimaced. “I knew him,” he said, as he looked over the photo. “Is this the one you’re going to distribute?”

“I am,” I said. “Using a method that will create a die for printing.”

“Show me this printing press,” said Wile. “Rachel was telling me about it.”

I nodded, and led Wile to another back room where the printing operations were in full motion. Five workers were fulfilling the orders that we had taken in, using three machines.

Wile examined the device, walking around it with an appraising air. “Hum,” he said. “These work a lot better than I would have expected, considering the newness of this technology.”

“My world has it all worked out,” I said. I held up my phone. “And I can figure out all the kinks using this.”

I turned to Rachel. “Did you get the dichromated gelatin that I asked for?”

Rachel pointed to a small pouch sitting on the shelf. I walked over and picked it up.

“Yes, these are the ingredients,” I said. I looked back at Rachel. “I’ll be in the dark room for the next couple of hours.”

Wile was busy inspecting the printing presses.

“Help him,” I said, to Rachel. “Tell him whatever he wants to know.” I left the room and returned to the dark room. I put together an apparatus that shone light through a shield that I had created, generating a steady stream of UV rays. I then overlaid the negative of the most striking photo and used it to create a Woodburytype. The UV light penetrated the negative at different speeds due to the interference of the negative, and when the process was over, I removed all the unhardened gelatin and was left with a beautiful rendition of the photo that could be used to print fliers and newspapers. I achieved everything I was aiming for and more with my first try.

I left the dark room and returned to the printing press room. Wile was still investigating the press, seeming to be even more invested in the machines than before.

Rachel was talking to Wile when I tapped her on the shoulder. “Hm?” she said.

I handed her the Woodburytype. “This is what you need to use to print the fliers,” I said.

Rachel took the print, carefully, and then admired it under the room’s light. “This is beautiful,” she said.

“Hopefully it will work,” I said. “I haven’t tested it yet.”

Rachel inked the print block and then pressed it against a piece of paper.

The resulting print was a lot better than I had expected, for a first try. Rachel grinned, and then her smile faltered. “What is this  a painting of?” she said. She touched the page gently.

“The death of a dragon,” I said.

Rachel frowned. “I’ve never seen a dragon before,” she said. “Is that what they really look like?”

“Can I see?” said Wile. He took the print and looked it over. “That’s amazing,” he said. “You can even see the details of his scales.”

“And we can make more of these prints,” I said.

Wile put the print down. “I appreciate everything,” he said.

Jessie was curled up in a ball in the room’s corner, sleeping. Wile woke her up. “Let’s get going,” he said. He turned to me, as if expecting something. “Are you coming?”

I stopped. “Why?” I said.

“You’re the only one who knows how to operate the treasure,” said Wile. “I know you recognized what it was from the description.”

“Um, okay?” I said. I turned to Rachel. “Can you make as many prints of this photo as possible while I’m gone?” I asked.

“Of course,” said Rachel. “Will we be using this process to make more, um, profitable decisions in the future?”

“This is profitable,” I said. “I was paid a lot of money to print these propaganda fliers.”

Rachel nodded. “I’ll do it.”

I left the house with Wile and Jessie. Jessie had a song in her step as we headed towards the nobles’ district.

There were no physical barriers separating the commoner’s district from the nobles’. We waltzed into the neighborhood without being questioned. Maybe it was the fact that I was wearing very nice clothing. Or maybe it was Wile’s commanding presence. In any case, we made it to the gate that led to the house of Caliph, the merchant.

“How are we getting in?” I said.

Jessie led us to the house’s side, a tight alley that was barely large enough to fit a person. She pointed to a manhole cover between the close walls. “There,” she said.

Wile lifted up the manhole cover. “This leads beyond the building,” he said.

“Caliph hides his most valuable treasure in a basement,” said Jessie. “I can lead you to a secret way to get in.”

“What about the guards?” I asked. f

Jessie took out a blackjack. “I know how to hit someone taller than me,” she said.

Wile pushed the weapon away. “I have a better way. Just lead me to them and I can put them to sleep.”

Jessie shrugged, and then leaped into the hole, disappearing without a trace. I followed. The place was dark, with a layer of water that covered my ankles and smelled of sewage.

“This must be an emergency escape,” said Wile, as he came down behind me. “For Caliph to use if things go south in his mansion.”

Jessie was already a few steps ahead, carrying a storm lantern. “Follow me,” she said.

Wile and I followed. We took a few turns at intersections, and then we came to a small wooden door that was half a man’s height. I bent down and examined it.

“How does it open?” I asked.

Jessie took out a small wire. “Like this,” she said. She fiddled with the door for a few moments, and then the door clicked. She motioned with her hand. “I’ll stay here,” she said. “You guys can go in if you want.”

I nodded at Wile. Wile nodded back, and crouched to enter the doorway. He opened it and passed through.

“Namis,” he whispered, and then two thuds echoed from within. He motioned to me. “The guards are down,” he said.

I followed Wile into the room. The basement we entered was lit by several lanterns, and two guards were laying, sleeping, on the floor. The whole room seemed to be dedicated to a single treasure, sitting in a glass case on a pedestal. I recognized the device instantly.

It was a Windows laptop from circa 2005. I approached it, cautiously. It remained silent, off, without power.

Wile lifted the case from the treasure and placed the glass box on the ground next to the pedestal. On a hunch, I opened a small door beneath the pedestal and retrieved what appeared to be a charging cable. I handed one end to Wile and plugged the other into the computer.

“Can you produce two hundred and twenty volts, alternating current?” I said.

Wile looked confused. “I don’t understand,” he said.

I shook my head. “I suppose I can do it.” I took the plug and tried creating an amount of energy using my alchemy power. The computer started up, and then a picture of a face appeared on its screen.

“Hello,” said the face. “I’m the oracle. Nice to meet you.”

The Alchemist Chapter 24

 

Chapter 24

Wile sniffed the camera. “It smells of chemicals,” he said.

“I used a lot of plastic in its construction,” I said. “That must be what you’re smelling.”

“Plastic?” said Wile. “Is that the new material I’ve been hearing rumors of?” he paused. “I did not expect you to be its creator.”

“Well, I didn’t really create it. More of, recreated it.”

“What else have you created?” said Wile.

I pointed to a bookshelf filled with scrolls and fine-bound books. “I created a device that can recrate books and manuscripts at an industrial scale. We can at the moment produce about one hundred full-sized books per week.”

“A hundred!” said Wile. He turned to Disc. “Can you believe this lad? He says he has a method to create a hundred books in a week. Full sized-ones at that!”

“Take me and my camera back to Brownfield,” I said, “And I’ll give you a tour of our works.”

Wile snorted. “I am too intrigued to refuse. Just know that, if you are lying, death will be the least of your concerns.” He shifted, standing up on his feet. “I’m too excited to sleep on it. Let’s go as soon as possible.”

“My camera,” I said. “I’ve removed the celluloid negatives, but they won’t last long being flown through the air. Do you have some sort of box that won’t let in light?”

Wile rooted through his treasure pile, eventually pushing a small, ornate chest over to me. “This will do,” he said. “It’s been blessed with the ability to protect whatever is inside it from damage.”

I carefully moved the photo negatives from the camera to the chest, closing it with a gentle touch. The chest, when lifted, was about ten pounds. I looked at Wile. “How am I going to get back to Brownfield?” I asked.

“You will be one of the few who have been given to honor to ride a dragon,” said Wile. He lowered his back, which was crested with a bony ridge. “Get on. I’ll carry your camera with my claws.” He gripped the pieces of wood that supported the camera.

“How are you going to get into Brownfield?” I said. “They’d kill you if you came in your dragon form.”

“I’m not worried about that,” said Wile. “I will be turning into my human form in a clearing to the city’s south. I’ve done this before. Do not fear.”

I climbed onto Wile’s back. “I trust you,” I said.

Wile chuckled. “Try not to trust a dragon too easily,” he said. “You’re lucky that a dragon’s curiosity is second only to its greed.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said. I looked at Disc and Rote. They appeared to be conversing in draconic. “Are they coming?” I asked.

“No,” said Wile. “They have been rather timid ever since they lost three of their kin in a year.” He turned towards the entrance. “We shall be off.” He jumped into the air, and then we were airborne. The wind pulled at my hair and got in my eyes. The ground below was so far beneath me that I couldn’t process its distance. There were no patchwork farms, just a long desert tracked with the trails of the nomads who lived in that barren world.

We left the desert behind. At one point, I sighted a dragon hunting ship in the distance, and we took a detour to avoid being fired at. We crossed several mountain ranges that I recognized from my trip here on the dragon hunting ship.

The city of Brownfield appeared on the horizon. Wile landed us in a clearing about ten kilometers from the city, at a distance where the guardsmen at the towers would not see us landing. The camera was set down with gentle ease.

I slid off of Wile’s back. We were sitting in a small village, long deserted. A couple of horses were meandering around a large pen. Wile’s body shimmered. His scales changed color like the setting of the sun. His size appeared to be changing, and then was actually changing, shrinking down to the size of a medium-weight human being. He had red hair, fair skin, and blue eyes.

“Does the color of your hair and eyes have anything to do with your draconic form?” I asked.

“No,” said Wile, brushing back his locks. “I just like this color.” He turned towards the horses. “There is a cart here that we can put your camera device inside of.” He disappeared behind a building and returned pulling a cart.

“This is how I transport my treasure to and from the Brownfield auction,” he said.

“You go to auctions?” I said.

Wile chuckled. “Yes. Did you truly think a dragon would be able to find all the specific objects they want purely through plundering?”

“I guess,” I said. “I never really thought about it.”

“Well, the auction at Brownfield is famous for having very rare collectors’ items. They are the kind that a dragon could not easily find by plundering randomly.”

“Why don’t you just steal the items from the auction?” I said.

“Then it wouldn’t happen anymore,” said Wile. He paused for a moment. “Do you realize the significance of the color of a dragon’s scales?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said.

“Then it seems like you don’t know everything,” said Wile. “I am a noble gold dragon. My alignment is with the gods of good, not of evil.”

“Um, okay?” I said. “But don’t you still steal things?”

“Good is relative when it comes to dragons,” said Wile. “I try to steal and kill as little as possible. But I am still a dragon.” He paused. “I must say, however, that everyone I kill, I have a reason for killing.”

“So you’re, um, a vigilante?” I said.

“I don’t know what kind of a person you have to be to call a dragon’s righteous wrath “vigilante,”” said Wile. He chuckled. “But I do understand where you are coming from.” He opened the pen holding the horses and hitched the wagon up to the beasts. He them picked up the camera—with one hand—and placed it with care on the wagon, on top of a layer of cloths. It was well insulated. After all, this was the wagon Wile used to transport priceless treasures.

I got on board, next to Wile, and we started heading down the path towards the city of Brownfield. At first, we didn’t meet very many people. Then a couple of farmers came onto the road, and then we were in the middle of a large knot of traffic. It appeared that a cart had lost its axle and was stuck further up the road.

“Eh, what’s that?” said a passing farmer, pointing to the camera.

“It’s a technological device,” I said.

“Technowhowhat?” said the farmer.

“A functional device,” I said. “Something that does important stuff.”

“Eh, me,” said the farmer, shaking his head. “Kids these days.”

Wile got off the cart. “Stay here,” he said. He pushed his way through the knot of traffic until he made it to the broken-down cart. I could just barely make him out through the crowd. With one hand, he lifted the cart out of the mud and placed it on the side of the road. He looked back at me, and nodded his head.

I got off the cart as well and headed towards the broken cart. Upon reaching it, I examined the axle.

“I can fix this,” I said.

Wile raised an eyebrow. “How?” he said.

“I don’t think I’ve demonstrated my power to you yet,” I said. I put my hand down on the ground and attracted iron to my grasp. A small pool of liquid metal welled up from the ground. I formed a spare axle with the metal and attached it to the cart’s wheels with some cold welding. Then I repaired the wagon.

The people who were watching, including Wile, were awestruck. I rubbed the back of my neck, a bit embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just did what I thought I should.”

A woman walked up to me and hugged me. “Thank ya, lad,” she said. She walked up to the cart, running her hand along it. “You’ve saved my livelihood.”

“What were you transporting?” I said.

The woman pulled away a cloth. “Babymelons,” she said. She picked up a green and orange striped fruit about the size of a squash, tossing it to me. “Here ya go,” she said. “For your trouble.”

Wile put his hand on my shoulder. “Do you know how to eat one of these?” he said.

“No,” I said, handing it to him.

Wile took it and smacked it with his palm. It cracked clean down the center, dividing the orange and green parts. Wile handed me the orange half. “They have different flavors,” he said. “The orange half is probably more palatable to someone who hasn’t grown up on these things.” Wile took a bite from the melon. “Amazing. Picked today, probably.”

I took a bite of the melon. It tasted of lychee and juicy fruit gum.

“This is good,” I said. “Are these expensive?”

“Not very,” said Wile. “But it’s normal for a farmer to stake their entire crop on a single day of the market.”

“Is that where everyone is going?” I asked.

Wile started walking back towards the wagon. “Dunno,” he said. “Some may be. Some may not be. I heard that things aren’t exactly peaceful around these parts.”

We reached the wagon. A small girl in a cloak was climbing on it, inspecting the camera.

“Hey!” yelled Wile. “Get off that wagon!”

I waved my hand. “Get off!” I said.

The girl scrambled down, but tripped, and then slammed her face into the dust. Wile grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. “What are you doing?” he said.

“You looked like you had something valuable,” said the girl. “I’m hungry. Can’t steal from anyone else. Give me something to eat.”

I handed her a half-eaten babymelon. She took it with gusto and started digging in.

“Sorry, lass,” said Wile. “We have business to do.”

“Get me into the town,” said the girl. “Get me in and I’ll help you. I know where treasure is buried. Good treasure. I just can’t get it myself.”

Wile’s ears perked up. “Can you tell me how good this treasure is?” he said.

The girl shrugged, and took another bite of the melon. “It’s important enough that the person who owns it keeps three guards around it at all times,” she said.

“And who is this person?” said Wile.

“Can’t say,” said the girl, taking another bite. “Important person. He burned down my orphanage and kicked me out of the city.”

“An injustice,” said Wile. “If this man is who I think he is, stealing from him will be much more fun.”

“You are a dragon, I guess,” I said. I sighed, getting onto the cart. “If you want that treasure, go for it. I’m going to help this girl, but I don’t want a reward. I have enough of everything.”

Wile climbed into the cart as well, followed by the girl. The three of us followed the traffic towards the city. The crowds grew even denser. This was unlike the traffic I was used to back on the freeways of Earth. There were many people walking, lots of animal dung, and everything stank to high heaven. Most of the people here were poor.

We came to the Brownfield gates. I had my writ of passage, and I assumed Wile could get in one way or another. It was the girl that was the problem.

With great surprise I found that all I had to do was flash my pass, and then we were in. I guess the crowds did do something in my favor this time. I smiled, and we headed towards my shop.