and each time they did, part of them would turn to gold too.” He pauses, his head tilting. “I always think they have it worse. At least if the Nigredo stops my heart, no one is going to carve it from my chest to sell.”
My hands rise to cover my mouth.
“Aurelia was furious,” he says, sinking back into the tale. “She tried to prevent them from making it, but when they demanded the right to choose, she gave in, saying when they turned nineteen they could decide for themselves. She banned all other forms of experimentation though, frightened of what it might lead to. And who could blame her, after what she’d seen in Tallith? The Sisters uphold that rule. Hence our inability to make our own poisons. We can make the Opus Magnum, but nothing else. We never learned.”
I mouth the words, Opus Magnum, as he continues.
“Aurelia eventually married, and had children of her own, and she offered them the same choice as their cousins.” He looks down at his hands. “Aurelia didn’t know what, if anything, the curse would be for them, but it soon became apparent it was different to the Citrinitas. We don’t know why it happens, something in the blood differing from Aurek’s and Aurelia’s, some impurity. All modern alchemy starts with the same base potion, whether making the Elixir or gold. It’s the blood that makes the difference.”
“Oh, Silas,” I breathe, my head spinning. “So the potion you use to make the Elixir was supposed to be the cure to wake the Sleeping Prince?”
“Originally. You know the saying ‘like cures like’?” he asks, and I nod; it’s a common apothecary edict. What causes can cure, if the dose is right. “They did what you tried to do with the Elixir. They deconstructed the remains of the poison from the vial found in the rat catcher’s rooms. They isolated all of the ingredients: salt, quicksilver, sulphur and so on, and were experimenting with reversing the potion. They thought it would wake him, and if he woke he could restore Tallith.”
“And they wanted that?”
“Originally, it was their goal. Raise the Sleeping Prince, and then reclaim and rebuild Tallith. Stop hiding and go home.”
Before I can ask him anything else the curtain is thrown open and the dark-skinned woman stands there. Her name comes back to me then – Nia, the salt merchant’s daughter. We used to buy our salt for the apothecary from her; she used to deliver it.
She doesn’t look at me, looking instead at Silas. “Your mother is here.”
He nods. “Thank you, Nia. Tell her I’ll be along soon.”
Nia raises her eyebrows but says nothing, whipping back out of the room, the curtain swinging in her wake.
“I know her,” I say. “I thought she liked me.”
“She’s funny about outsiders. Interesting, given that she’s not an alchemist, but married in.”
“Her husband is one?”
“Her wife.”
I try to imagine a female alchemist, with the silver hair and an amber gaze. It’s how Aurelia must have looked. “So this is the Conclave.”
“Welcome.”
“I lived above it all my life.”
He nods. “You did. Which reminds me, I heard about your mother. We’ll get her back. We’ll get her here, safe and sound. I mean to keep my promise to you. I always did.”
I feel horribly guilty then, for everything; for blackmailing him, and not trusting him. And for asking him to allow my mother in here without knowing what she is. He deserves to know. “You have to let me explain,” I say. “I lied to you. About my mother.” He looks at me blankly. “She isn’t just grieving. The scratches on her arms, I think the Scarlet Varulv attacked her. Changed her.”
“The what?”
“The Scarlet—”
“I know what it is,” he interrupts gently. “It’s impossible; it’s a story, Errin.”
“Yes, well, we thought that about the Sleeping Prince, but that turned out to be a mistake.”
“The Scarlet Varulv really is just a tale, I know that much.”
“No. You don’t know what she’s been like. It was she who chipped my tooth.” My tongue pushes my lip aside to remind him of it. “You’ve seen her eyes, how red they are. And her hands like claws. Silas, when the moon is full she tries to hurt me. Something happened in the woods, and I think – no, I know – it was that. It’s the only explanation.”
He sighs. “Errin, I saw your mother, remember. I sat with her, twice. I promise you, she’s not a storybook monster; she’s sad and lost. And I