Read Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) for Free Online Page A

at his older brother. "And greetings to you, too.
My student here was having some problem, and I came to sort it out. I
thought today was your light-work day, but you're already off
visiting people, so there was nothing to do but wait for you to get
back. Was she pretty?"
    "What?"
Iathor blinked, sorting between annoying herb-witch and promising
apprentice before he realized this was an entirely hypothetical
"she."
    Too
late. Iasen continued the baiting. "All right, was he pretty? Really, must I ask about livestock next, brother?"
    Iathor
sat – restraining himself from an undignified flop – in
the second-most comfortable chair, across from Iasen. "I've been
investigating an alchemical poisoning, if you must know." He
reached out his toe and shoved his brother's leg. "That's for
not telling my staff why you're here."
    "Pfft,
what do they care? I'm here, I need a room while my place gets
cleaned up; that's all that matters. Got a bread-roll for me?"
    "No."
Iathor took a bite. "You annoy my cook, you get cold porridge
for dinner. What's wrong with your house?"
    Iasen
rolled his eyes. "My student had a problem involving smoke."
    "In
your basement? This sounds amusing." Iathor was glad he didn't
have full-time students underfoot, setting his workroom on fire. That
would be a drawback of an herb-witch wife. Still, the woman'd not
burnt down the firetrap she lived in . . .
    "Oh,
I'm sure it's amusing, but I've not gotten the full story out of
Lairn – my student – yet." Iasen scowled and
slouched in his chair. "I'm nearly tempted to put the dramsman's
draught in his beer and hold his nose till he drinks it."
    "Don't
joke about that."
    His
brother scowled harder, focusing on him. "Bah. It's just us and
our dramsmen. Mine know better than to gossip."
    "Well,
mine aren't so limited." I attract enough stupid rumors
without upsetting my staff with "don't talk" orders. He
took another bite of his roll, chewing till he could swallow his
irritation with his brother's so-called jokes. "Will you be
staying long, down here in Aeston, or are you headed back to Cym once
you sort out your student?"
    Iasen
leaned his head against the back of the chair. "Oh, I hate
autumn travel. I probably hate it even more than I hate winter in
Aeston."
    "It's
over more quickly than winter."
    "Trying
to get rid of me already?" Iasen put a hand to his forehead in
mock pain. "Don't tell me you've fallen in love with a
chambermaid again! You and your filthy habits."
    Iathor
sighed out through his teeth. He didn't say, I was fifteen and you
only found out because you were trying to leave her flowers too. Instead, he murmured, "No, I've not fallen in love with anyone."
    "And
you can't be worried about this poisoning thing affecting me –
I've drunk at least half the things you have, and a few more you've
not. Got a concubine from one of those brothels you like so much?"
    Iathor
avoided that topic with a flat, "No."
    "So
why're you already chasing me out of the city, if you don't want
privacy for some deviant escapade?" Iasen grinned; an expression
young ladies found wickedly charming when they thought no one else
was listening.
    "Guild
politics are going around," Iathor said vaguely. The Weavers'
Guild Master was touchy enough without adding Iasen's witty banter to
the city's social mixture.
    "You
make it sound like the flu."
    "The
flu, I could mix potions for. Politics . . . not so
much." Iathor grimaced.
    " I could mix a potion for–"
    Iathor
stood. "Absolutely not. Aside from the blackest
illegality of turning people into dramsmen unawares, it can be useful to leave others with all their free will. That joke, Iasen,
isn't funny and I'll not hear it in my house."
    Iasen
sighed. "Of course, Lord Alchemist. I'm duly reminded you've no
sense of humor."
    "Especially
on that topic. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must prepare for a meeting
with my officers, then with a representative of the Weavers' Guild.
And before that, I must send a message to Baron