The Apprentice Graduates: The Alchemist Book 3 E-Book

Stacey Keystone

• Herausgeber: Stacey Keystone
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Dana Bedwen may have become a dark mage despite her wishes, but now she needs to learn how to use it. As she graduates from University, she also needs to settle in the rural area she is being sent to, to repay for her education.

There, in Kesteven, she'll continue her magical apprenticeship, with her two Magical Masters following there, even as her husband, Detective Jack Taylor, starts uncovering some of the area's dark secrets. The Society of Learning, the remnants of the Inquisition, haven't forgotten about Dana, either, and some of her family's secrets will be revealed, despite Dana's preference for ignorance.

Book three of the Alchemist steampunk series.

Leseprobe

The Apprentice Graduates

The Alchemist Book 3

Stacey Keystone

Ellauri Press

Copyright © 2021 Stacey Keystone

All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law.

Published by Ellauri Press 2021

Books by Stacey Keystone:

Alchemist series:

THE APPRENTICE’S PATHALCHEMICAL MAGICTHE ALCHEMIST GRADUATES

Marn Magical Academy series:

THE GHOST SCHOOLTHE GHOST BRIDETHE GHOST FRIEND

Contents

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Part II

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Epilogue

Newsletter

Books by Stacey Keystone:

About the Author

Part I

1

Should I go for the smoked salmon and cream cheese canapé or the sandwich with dry-cured ham and sheep's cheese?

The tray of appetizers, titillating me with various expensive options, dazzled me with an array of colorful combinations of tastes and smells. There was the tartelette with caviar, the cured elk sausage (just enough fat to make it soft, but not greasy; a bit of pepper accentuated the aroma of the dark meat, without making it spicy), the cuts of cold meat, deviled eggs, many different cheeses, pickles, olives, all to taste.

I think you aren't supposed to mix all those flavors. There's an order for tasting them, supposedly. Grandpa would certainly disapprove of my manners.

I did what every other dark mage in the party did: filled my plate with the most expensive dishes, tasting each and every option on the table.

"Don't worry," Jack whispered into my ear. "I'm sure you'll do fine. Your speech is great."

It seems like he misinterpreted me gorging on the food as nerves.

"Oh, it's not that," I said, feeling how the smoky greasiness of the salmon mixed with the saltiness of the olives I just ate. Weird combination. "I've just never seen these many options. By the way, I don't get what the big deal about caviar is."

Too salty, and those tiny granules just feel weird on my tongue. Wouldn't pay for it myself.

"You," Jack determined, "shouldn't be in charge of the catering for our wedding party."

We eloped (if going to the notary's office in the middle of the night accompanied by Grandpa and Major Craen, my dark magic Master, is considered eloping, that is) because of issues with Immigration. They claimed I wasn't a Kalmari citizen, although so far, I haven't seen any proof that my birth certificate was faked. Other than the outrageous slander directed against my parents, that is. But it's not like the people who claimed my father was still in Yllam on the date of my supposed conception had witnesses willing to stand in criminal court. As opposed to Immigration court, which is known for their rather lax standards of evidence (the ones demanded from the government, of course).

Anyway, after the wedding, none of them came to bother me again, despite the seriousness of the allegations. Because they couldn't prove them in court, obviously.

But it wouldn't be proper for a Bedwen to have a secret marriage ceremony (people might think it was a shotgun wedding), so we were also celebrating a public ceremony. Three weeks after my graduation.

Grandpa and Jack spent innumerable hours choosing the decorations, the guest list, and the menu. I couldn't be bothered. As long as there's plenty of delicious food, alcohol, and music, anything will be fine.

Jack confessed the only reason he was so involved with the planning was to rein in Grandpa's grandiose preparations a bit. Apparently, the guest list numbered in the hundreds. I sympathized, but I'd learned to pick my battles. And Grandpa always had a certain love for the grandiose. I mean, when he was looking for a house, he bought an entire college. To live in.

Granted, he said it was great value, with the terrible reputation of the previous owners (the building had been, according to rumors, the Inquisition's torture chambers). But still. When I moved in, he gave me an entire section of the building to live in. My own apartments, with a living room, bathroom, and bedroom.

I could imagine what he was going to turn my wedding reception into.

Still, I was staying out of it.

Let Grandpa have fun with the party. Showing me and my family to all his friends and acquaintances was the entire purpose of the celebration, after all.

When my mother chose to disappear, she was presumed dead for years. Until I met Grandpa and approached him, hoping to get to know him better (and, I'm not going to hide, get some money to pay for my brothers' education; my parents didn't have the money to pay for the education of three young light mages. While alchemists can get generous salaries, I would need to get indebted to my eyebrows to pay for their education. And I still had my own student debt to sort through.)

Mother, father, and my brothers were on the train, coming to my wedding. They wanted to come to my graduation ceremony, but the last thing I wanted on this already tense day was to deal with my brother's constant need for attention. Sure, their adoration was an excellent balm for my wounded pride, but they were also exhausting.

They'd be coming next week.

"Agreed," I said. "Don't worry, mother will be coming on Sunday. She'll straighten Grandpa out. You don't have to stress so much about it."

"Ah," Jack sighed with relief. "That's good. I don't care about those things, you know? The menu and the combination of food with wines and seating arrangements and flowers and tablecloths…"

"Since you're such an expert now," I said, licking my fingers as I finished the contents of my plate, "advise me on what I should drink now. Something that would go well with the food I just ate."

Jack eyed the empty tray with dread.

"I don't think there's anything that can be combined with the horrible mix you just ate," he said. "Stick to water. It will cleanse your palate as you prepare to eat the sweet pastry."

"There's sweet pastry?" I asked as he wiped my fingers with a tissue, shaking his head in disapproval. "You should have told me earlier. I would have left some space for it."

He finished wiping my fingers and handed the empty plate and tissue to a waiter that was circling around, picking up the dirty dishes.

"Are you sure you're not nervous?" he asked, taking his handkerchief and wiping the edge of my mouth. "Because I never see you eat like that."

"Nervous?" I said, chuckling. "Why would I be nervous? It's just my graduation ceremony. I mean, I always knew I was going to be the valedictorian. I'm the best, after all."

"Sure," Jack said, forgiving my boast with a gentle smile. "But now you're a valedictorian for two ceremonies. At the same time. It's the event of the century. The first time the Dark Magic and Alchemy Department have done graduation ceremonies together."

I frowned at the reminder.

Although the different Departments usually had separate graduation ceremonies, this year the Practical and Applied Magic Department and the Alchemy Department were having a joint ceremony.

It seemed like there were a few issues.

I was double majoring, but I could only get one diploma.

Apparently, the University could only issue one. The diploma is an official document, certified with both physical and magical watermarks, its number printed in the official government bulletin.

So, I could only get one diploma, which would indicate I graduated from both majors, simultaneously. With Honors in both.

And that's where the issue lay.

According to university tradition, the student who graduates with Honors gets to give a speech, after getting their diploma from the hands of their Department's Dean.

I earned Honors in both Practical Magic and Alchemy and was supposed to be the person giving the speech at both ceremonies.

Frankly, it's a bother I'd rather avoid, although I loved praise, Honors, and any acknowledgment of my status.

To avoid handing me two diplomas, which would be impossible, it was suggested that I get my real diploma in one of the ceremonies, and a certificate of achievement in the other. I agreed with this compromise, but then the Practical Magic and Alchemy Departments could not agree who would give what.

Another compromise was suggested: I would get the diploma in the first ceremony, hand it back, and get it a second time. Another heated discussion followed, about who would go first.

I thought the whole affair was completely ridiculous, and refused to weigh in.

The fight for status between the two Departments continued until the rector himself weighed in: the two Departments would get a joint ceremony, and I would get my Diploma from both Deans, simultaneously.

While the compromise did ruffle some feathers, mostly among students who didn't want to have a joint ceremony, nobody listened to them, because the higher ups were satisfied.

So the students blamed me.

Thankfully, I was graduating, or I wouldn't survive otherwise.

Since this was the first (and most probably, last) joined graduation ceremony, the departments rolled out the red carpet, outcompeting each other with generous catering.

Nobody thanked me for that.

Of course, since this was an official event, alcohol was banned, but I already saw a few of my classmates passing around a suspiciously looking flask.

"I would have been fine coming only to the Alchemy Department's ceremony," I said.

"I know," Jack said, whispering. "You said it a hundred times. But please don't show your disrespect to your Applied Magic classmates, alright? They're dark mages, and they have long memories. If they think you're too stuck up, they can stir trouble for you. You had to fight two duels to gain your spot amongst them."

"Technically," I said, "only one of them was a duel. The other was just a fistfight."

"Even that is too much," Jack said, and nodded at somebody who was coming from my right. "And there's the guy you fought a duel with."

His polite, cold smile didn't deter Jordan, who slapped my shoulder hard.

"Heya, Bedwen!" he shouted into my ear.

I responded in kind, by slapping his back hard (I couldn't reach his shoulders with enough force).

"That's Mrs. Bedwen for you," Jack said.

"Ah, yeah, your sudden wedding," Jordan said. "So you haven't changed your surname yet? It's been a month already."

"Nope," I said. "Not changing my surname."

"You know," Jordan said, leaning toward my ear, as if telling me some big secret. He clearly had more than his fair share of the suspicious flask. "With a surname like yours, it would be better to change it. At least Taylor is not a light surname. A dark mage with a light surname is just plain unnatural. It rubs people the wrong way."

"I know," I said. "Which is why I'm not changing it."

Rubbing people the wrong way is nice. Especially if the people are light mages.

"Ah, I see," Jordan said. "Trolling the light mages, eh? Well, that's good."

His breath stank of alcohol.

"Where did you get the drinks?" I asked.

I was fishing for an invitation.

"Ah," Jordan said. "Cal managed to sneak some in. You want some?"

I considered it. I was about to make a speech, and I didn't want to make a fool of myself. I had already taken a shot for courage at home, before I came here, to steady my nerves.

"After the speech," I said.

Jordan smiled.

"Sure," he said. "Come by the group. You wanna go to the pub after this?"

"Sorry," I said. "But I'm spending tonight with my husband. We only married four weeks ago, you know. And I've been too busy preparing for graduation. And everything else. I promised Jack we would start our honeymoon tonight."

I promised nothing of the sort, and Jack gave me a brief look. But he didn't betray me.

A husband needs to back his wife when she lies to avoid undesirable social entanglements.

Jordan slapped Jack on the back.

"Honeymoon, eh?" he said, almost shouting. "Well, I guess there has to be a good reason you married Bedwen."

And he laughed in a rather lewd manner.

I ignored him.

I was used to the jokes about my sex life after my rather sudden wedding. My classmates commented it for weeks (and complained about me keeping my surname. Turns out, many people had opinions on which surname I should get. The majority seemed to think I should change my surname, despite dark females always keeping their surnames. I was having none of it). There was rife speculation on whether I was pregnant.

I wasn't, and I swore to it, but that didn't prevent the speculation.

If it wasn't a pregnancy, was it my sudden riches? As if I'd fall for a guy who was after my money.

It wasn't that bad, and it would subside with time, but there wasn't any time.

I cracked my fingers.

Jordan looked at me, alarmed.

"I need to prepare for the speech," I said, smiling pleasantly. "Can you let us rehearse it, please?"

That seemed to disconcert him, which was my objective. The last thing I wanted was to fight. It would ruin my makeup and the careful hair updo.

"Of course," Jordan said. He then headed away, no doubt ready to say he only left me alone after I begged him to.

"Honeymoon?" Jack asked, as soon as we were out of my classmate's earshot.

"That would be nice," I said. "But between the preparations for the wedding reception and the move to Kesteven, I don't think I'll have the energy, to be honest. You still need to finish selling your house."

"That was what I thought," Jack said, although I could sense his disappointment.

"I'm sorry," I said, my hand caressing his cheek. "Our wedding was not what you wanted. Hell, it wasn't what I wanted. But that's what you get for marrying me."

"Just promise me," Jack said, "that when you get a respite, we will have that honeymoon you mentioned."

"Sure," I said. "As long as you're fine having it in a place with no running water or plumbing."

Yeah, we were moving to the boonies.

Not my choice, really.

It's a long story.

2

After Grandpa refused to help me sorting my relationship with the Floyd fund, I went to see a lawyer.

The contract by which I had to go to the middle of nowhere to be a rural alchemist for six years, in order to repay my debt to the Floyd Fund, was irontight.

Now that Grandpa and the Major were engaged on some intrigue of their own, I had to verify everything myself. I couldn't afford to trust them. I was sure they thought their schemes would work to my advantage (especially Grandpa), but Grandpa did not always make the right decisions for the family.

That's how uncle Billie ended with the mind of a child, after all.

So I took the paperwork to a lawyer, a real lawyer, one that wasn't, to my knowledge, connected to my family. I asked, and he said the same thing Grandpa did.

Mr. Collins, his name was, an elderly, bald, but firm guy, with an eagle-eye stare.

"So," I asked, after he paged through the contract, carefully. "Is there any way to avoid the work obligation? Or at least choose my destination?"

"No," Mr. Collins said. "These work obligations are very similar to the draft, except you go into it voluntarily. You can't quit, you can't repay unless they take your money. You have to go where you're sent for the time period indicated, and work in the capacity indicated."

"Which capacity?" I asked.

"I gather, Mrs. Bedwen, that your degree includes a double Major in Alchemy and Practical Magic?" Mr. Collins asked, looking up from the documents.

I nodded.

"Yes," I said. "But I earned the scholarship to study Alchemy. Practical Magic was an addition I chose after I went through with my Initiation. And I still don't have my mages' seal."

Which wasn't much of a choice, really, since I went through a spontaneous, and unauthorized, Initiation. Jack and Grandpa covered it up, and there was no proof, although I think the Major had his suspicions. Major Craen used the incident that caused my illegal Initiation to appoint himself my second Master, arguing that Grandpa, who was on paper my Master of Magic, the one responsible for me, was unable to take care of his apprentice because he was a light mage, and I was a dark one.

"I see," Mr. Collins said. "Well, I have good news for you, Mrs. Bedwen. Since the contract was signed when you received the scholarship to study Alchemy, they can only ask you to work as an alchemist. Any work you do as a practical mage will be on a voluntary contractual basis. Besides, without a mages' seal, you're not authorized to do any practical magic work."

"That's good," I said, glad I at least avoided that hurdle.

I didn't want to be a mage. It wasn't a choice, I made the best of it I could, using magic for alchemy, and even publishing a book on innovative uses of magic in alchemy. It was en route to become a bestseller.

Still.

"But can't I somehow avoid the work obligations?" I asked Mr. Collins. "When I signed it, there was a common understanding that usually grant receivers are allowed to repay the debt in money, with interest."

"Unfortunately," Mr. Collins said, his tone sympathetic. "The common understanding isn't binding. The contract says, explicitly, that the government gets to choose whether scholarship recipients should pay back in money or service. And there's been a policy change this year. The government wants everybody to repay in service, since the need for alchemists, healers and other specialists in underserved areas is so dire."

Of course. Nobody wants to work in places without gas or running water. There's nothing good in the boonies.

Ashford, though, is at the forefront of innovation. Some houses in Ashford are starting to get electricity now!

If I stayed here, I would get electrical lighting in my house.

In the boonies, I'd be lucky if I don't need to use an outhouse.

"What about my right to make a living?" I asked Mr. Collins. "There might not be enough work where I'm send. What happens if there is too little work to make a living? Can't I sue them if I go below the federal minimum?"

I don't expect there to be much regular work for an alchemist in rural areas.

"That has been taken into account," Mr. Collins said. "It says here that, if the volume of work is insufficient to provide the federal annual minimum, plus the local adjustment rate, the government will top up your salary at the end of year."

"Which means I need to finance my first year of life there, even if I don't get a penny from work," I said.

"Unfortunately, yes," Mr. Collins nodded. "It's unlikely the government will send you to an area with such little work, though, since in that case they'll have to pay you to do nothing."

"What about the freedom of contract angle?" I asked Mr. Collins. "I thought such contracts are illegal. Isn't work at-will in Kalmar?"

"The work repayment obligation for scholarships falls under the same category as the draft," Mr. Collins said. "Which is quite legal, despite its non-voluntariness. There is no way to get out of your obligation, Mrs. Bedwen. You're not the first client to come to me with this. The sudden change in government policy caught many unaware."

"And what about marriage protections?" I asked. "My husband has a job in Ashford. Can they separate me from him by sending me away?"

"What is your husband's job?" Mr. Collins asked, perking up.

"He's a police detective," I said, and saw Mr. Collins' enthusiasm deflate.

"They'll accommodate you by sending your husband with you. You say he's a detective, right?" When I nodded, he continued, "then they'll give him an equivalent job, or maybe even a promotion. He'll be no worse off, they'll make sure of that. Besides, rural areas are also in need of trained, experienced police officers."

"It seems like rural areas are in need of everything," I grumbled.

Mr. Collins gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Few educated people are willing to stay in rural areas," he said. "And they are necessary for rural development. Unfortunately, rural areas cannot afford to offer the amenities and salaries cities can offer, so the government has resorted to more forceful measures. It's unfortunate, but that is the price you'll have to pay for your education, Mrs. Bedwen."

I made a face.

I went to receive an education to get away from the small mining town I was from, Crow Hill, and my father's small repair and machining shop. It's not like there wasn't enough business for both my father and me to make a living in Crow Hill, fixing the equipment for the mine (my father frequently had to machine the parts himself, since most of the mine's equipment was custom made). In fact, there was too much work; my father was immediately hired upon his arrival to Crow Hill, twenty-three years ago, even without any papers or diploma. They just took him to the machine shop, he fixed a broken valve, and was hired.

I guess the situation is the same in other towns similar to Crow Hill, and I understand why. It's not like the pay is that good.

And I wanted more. I wanted excitement, the latest alchemy techniques, the thrill of discovery, money and glory. That's why I came to Ashford University, to study a degree in Alchemy.

It seemed like I was back at square one, albeit with a degree, an unfinished apprenticeship in dark magic (of which I had two years left), and a husband.

But still in the boonies.

With a six-year long unbreakable contract.

When I finished the speech, I was surrounded by my Alchemy classmates (they called dibs).

It wasn't that I was such a desirable companion, or that popular, you see.

It was that I was a trophy, to be contested by both departments in a game of tug of war.

Except I didn't have the tensile strength of a rope.

I was already showing signs of strain.

They were getting me drunk, you see.

Or trying to.

"No," I said, as one of my classmates, Scott Claiborne, was trying to pour me another pitcher. "No more. One is enough, thankyouverymuch. My husband wants me sober."

I probably make Jack sound like a horrible tyrant, but I've found it rather convenient lately to use him as a get out of jail card for all social engagements.

You see, it's not that I don't like you, it's that my husband doesn't like me to go out.

Jack approached us, and raised his eyebrow slightly, the edge of his mouth twitching in a smile. But he became serious, and stood by me, pretending to be the tyrannical husband he wasn't.

"I certainly do," he said, putting his arm over my shoulder, behind my back. "Because you become rather aggressive when you're drunk. She tried to beat me up, can you imagine?"

I didn't.

He was destroying the carefully crafted image I created of him in my classmates' minds. If I beat him up, how could he be that tyrannical.

"Does she?" Scott asked, nervously looking around.

He had heard rumors of my involvement in many fights.

In my defense, I have to say that was in the previous year, before I got back together with Jack.

I had more time to pursue my hobbies then.

"Oh, she certainly does," that was Joe, my friend, coming to my rescue. "Wouldn't risk it, if I were you."

Scott gave me a look and went away, probably thinking I was crazy.

"Thanks," I told Joe.

I've heard there's a bit of a competition between the two departments, over who gets me to go out with them tonight.

"Oh, wouldn't want to ruin the alchemist who made me so much money," Joe said.

When I looked at him with incomprehension, he explained.

"I bought some shares in your company, back when they were absolutely worthless. Now they're worth quite a bit and will be worth more when the factory is up and running."

Joe got his uncle to recommend me to a company, Ashford Pharmaceuticals, that was trying to reverse-engineer (or steal) some Yllamese compounds. Things weren't going well for the company, because, it turns out, you need talented alchemists even to steal, especially when you have to do it from scratch.

I managed to steal one drug from the Yllamese (partly thanks to some secret documents Major Craen, my second Master, got for me). That made me a bit of money. Also, I got the title of Head of Department.

Which I was going to lose with the move.

"About that," I said. "Does your uncle talk to you about the company?"

His uncle was a member of the board, a major investor, and knew quite a bit about the internal workings of the company.

"My uncle mentioned that Mr. Bamber seems to be happy to be in the production phase," Joe said. "The pilot plant is working smoothly, now is the time to scale up."

I had been too busy with studying for the exams and writing up all the projects I had, to pay too much attention to the company.

It was good to know things were going well. A pity I couldn't take advantage of that.

Unless…

3

After I learned about my move, I tried to come up with a way to keep my job at the company. That was my only chance to do anything remotely interesting. It's not like I could afford to fund the construction of my own lab.

Grandpa's money, after all, was Grandpa's money.

I was technically on leave from Ashford Pharmaceuticals Ltd., but I thought the decent thing would be to tell them I was leaving, now that there was no chance I would be coming back. Especially after Mr. Collins, the lawyer I consulted, assured me there was no way to avoid being sent to the middle of nowhere.

"You can, however, combine your government work with private work, as long as you fulfill your obligations to the government," Mr. Collins said, when I mentioned the company.

Which was what I explained to Mr. Bamber, my boss and one of the company's founders.

"The pilot plant is working well," I said. "It's time to build a factory. But land in Ashford is expensive. There's lots of taxes. Salaries are high. Land is much cheaper there, and workers are cheaper. Besides, there's the tax holiday plan, where they offer five years without taxes for locating industry in deprived areas."

"But deprived areas lack infrastructure," Mr. Bamber said. "We need trains. Gas. Running water."

"I checked," I said, taking out a detailed map of Kesteven county's utility lines. I had to use Grandpa's contacts, and even some of the Major's, to obtain it. You'd think it was some kind of state secret instead of being publicly available information.

"Look, here's the train line. And there's a gas line here, which we can extend by ourselves. Water is available from the dam here, and we can also extend the water pipes. With the low cost of land, it will still be cheaper than buying land here. Besides, the governor of Kesteven is very eager to develop his area. That may also clear the regulatory hurdles."

Ashford was a developed, nice city, full of well-intentioned light mages. And light mages were slightly… hysterical when it came to progress. They had an unreasonable attachment to species of insects nobody knew or cared about and would block the construction of anything that didn't go through extensive review for possible damages to a large list of animals. And also noise, light, and heat pollution checks, air quality impact assessment studies, and who knows what.

It's unlikely farmers know or care about the yellow leopard gecko, which is apparently different from the common mustard gecko (yes, there was a factory that couldn't be built for years because it was close to the habitat to this apparently rare species). Or any other species light mages seem to invent at the drop of a hat whenever somebody wants to do anything remotely useful.

Mr. Bamber was skeptical.

"I get that you want to stay working at this stage, Mrs. Bedwen," he said. "And we would love to retain you. But it doesn't make sense for us to make such an important decision based on where you end up going. If we do decide to take advantage of the government's tax credits, we will examine all alternatives."

"Just let me send you a report," I said. "From Kesteven. See if I can get local support, that kind of thing. Estimate the cost."

"We're already working with an APC for this project," Mr. Bamber said. "And the board has approved the preliminary project."

An APC is an alchemy, procurement, and construction company. As for the preliminary project…

"That's even better," I said. "Now that I have the cost estimate, I will see if I can halve it."

All those cost estimates are bullshit anyway. If you got within a 50% range (50% more or less, but it's always more), it was amazingly accurate. I was sure I could halve whatever the APC was estimating.

"Even if you convince the board to change the project's location," Mr. Bamber said, "how would you manage the project, while working another job full-time? Building a factory is quite an intensive project."

"That won't be a problem," I said.

"Why not?" Mr. Bamber asked.

"Because there won't be enough work for me to be full time," I said, quite sure of myself.

"But the government pay guarantee…" Mr. Bamber said.

"Sure," I said, waving my hand horizontally, cutting him. "I will be getting full time work. Per year. You know what that means? It means I'll have to work double shifts at double pay two months a year, the ones during harvest. That's how farmers work, too."

Despite living in a mining town, I was familiar enough with farming and their demands on alchemists. Father, who mostly worked on the mines, would still get called to the neighboring towns during harvest season, when something broke and the local alchemist was busy (something always breaks during harvest season, and each day, even each hour, is critical; they pay nice rates to fix a tractor fast).

"Still," Mr. Bamber said, "having a Head of Alchemy Department that works part-time is not a good view."

"I was working part-time before," I pointed out. "And still developed a product. Got my shares, too. I don't see why I can't build a factory, too."

"You see, Mrs. Bedwen," Mr. Bamber said. "I don't deny you are an excellent inventor. The best we have. But building a factory requires a different set of skills. You'd need to manage a team, coordinate multiple projects, and deal with the paperwork. You'd hate it."

I didn't like being told what I would like or dislike. Even when it was true.

"I can do it," I told him, firmly. "Just present my project to the Board of Directors. If they approve it, we build the factory in Kesteven, and I'll manage it. If they don't, they can fire me."

"Fire you?" Mr. Bamber said.

"Sure," I said. "Since I will be leaving to Kesteven for six years on a government work contract. I don't think they'll keep me on staff until I return."

"But won't you resign when you are sent there?" Mr. Bamber asked.

"No," I replied. "There's a penalty clause if I quit. I lose my shares. I'm not quitting. And the law says I'm entitled to leave for the period of the forced work contract. It works like the draft, you see. If you want the details, you can talk to my lawyer."

Since Mr. Collins couldn't tell me how to break the government contract, I made him go over my employment contract with Ashford Pharmaceuticals, and the protections I was entitled to.

I knew my rights.

"Alright, Mrs. Bedwen," Mr. Bamber said. "I'll present your project to the board."

I smiled and nodded, waxing lyrical about the benefits of building a factory where I was being sent.

But I didn't trust Mr. Bamber to keep his word.

"You know I'm being sent to Kesteven?" I asked Joe.

"I heard all scholarship receivers are being sent away for their work placements, instead of paying back the loan," Joe said. "I gather it affects you, too? It was quite the move by the government."

"Yes," I said. "I heard it was in the works for years, and it seems it finally happened."

It was almost suspicious, the way it happened just when I was graduating.

But then, nobody was going to change national policy for tiny little me, right? I'm not that important of a person.

"Yeah, that's quite unlucky," Joe said. "Are you quitting your job?"

"I don't want to," I said. "I actually thought…"

I told him about my plan to build the factory in Kesteven, about the land prices and the tax advantages.

"Maybe I can even get the governor on board," I said. "I'm sure it will be easier there than here. They're very slow issuing permits here, after all."

Joe nodded.

"Interesting," he said. "I can see where it can save money, but… building a factory in the place you randomly end up being sent is a bit of an ask. My uncle respects my opinion, but he's very good at counting money. You'll need something more."

"I'll write a report," I said. "And a plan, with cost estimates. If I manage to halve the current cost estimates, do you think you can get your uncle to present it to the board for a vote?"

Joe thought about it.

"Alright," he said. "But I won't lobby for anything. It's up to you to convince the board with your plan."

"Thanks," I said, smiling.

"You're welcome. By the way, the mages are coming for you," he finished the glass of champagne in his hand, left it on a table, and left, after patting Jack.

I looked around. My dark classmates were coming for me.

"Save me," I begged Jack.

In the end, due to social pressure I ended up really, really drunk. So drunk, I don't even remember what happened for the rest of the night.

I had tiny glimpses. Me punching a guy for making a joke that went a bit too far. Me vomiting on Jack's elegant jacket. Me being carried home, by Jack and Joe, with the help of Jordan for some reason.

When I woke up the next morning, my head was splitting, and my memory of the events was fuzzy.

I also woke up very late, which is extremely rare for me.

When I moved in bed, sitting up, Jack, who had been standing by the window (looking at the cat play? Who knows), turned to me.

"I see you're finally awake. Here, drink this," he said, approaching me with a tray with a steamy cup. I took the cup.

The contents smelled rather foul.

"What is this?" I asked, feeling a bit nauseous.

"Not exactly sure," Jack said, "but your Grandpa said it's good for your magic. You drank too much yesterday, it's not good for your control. Thankfully, you didn't lose it. Do you want to know what you did lose?"

I could guess. My clothes? My dignity?

"No," I said. "And I don't want to know. Do I need to drink this, though? I feel fine."

Not bad enough to drink that, for sure.

"That's what your Grandpa said," Jack said. "And he knows way more about magic than I do. Just drink it."

I refused, setting the tray aside and trying to stand up.

"Drink it," Jack said, "or I'll tell you everything you did yesterday in excruciating detail."

I quickly drank the drink, trying to hold my breath while I did so. It tasted as foul as it smelled.

"Now, wash away the taste with this," Jack said, giving me a glass of water, which I drank eagerly.

I still had the foul taste in my mouth.

"I'll go tell Bettie to warm up your breakfast," Jack said, standing up and heading toward the door. "The taste should get away by the time you wash up and are ready."

I headed toward the bathroom. Should wash my teeth first. Hopefully, that would get rid of most of the taste.

When I looked at myself in the mirror, I was more convinced of my decision not to know what happened last night.

I looked like a half-rotten zombie. My eyes were bloodshot, with bags around my eyes. I had a bruise that covered half of my right cheek, which didn't seem to hurt. I brushed my fingers lightly over it.

Now it hurt.

When I finished washing up, I still looked awful, but was clean, the bruise was covered up in Grandpa's magical cream (and the other bruises on my body, too, spread through the least likely places), and smelled of medicine and soap rather than vomit and piss (don't know how Jack handled sleeping next to me).

I left our bedroom and noticed the blanket on the sofa.

He didn't. Smart guy.

4

Jack brought a tray with freshly made toast and reheated breakfast, and placed it on our table.

"I know you're not feeling very well today," he said, "so I convinced Mr. Bedwen to allow us some privacy this morning. He agreed."

I nodded and started buttering the toast before it got too cold.

My knee was hurting, so I raised my foot and placed it on one of the moving boxes that were still hanging around our living room. Much better.

Jack had moved with me while he was trying to sell his house. He'd been staying with me most nights before too, but, since Grandpa was kinda conservative, we didn't make it official.

However, now that we were married, we were covered.

Besides, Jack needed to sell his apartment.

We were moving to Kesteven, a county in the southernmost part of the Kalmari Republic, for six years.

I had to repay the debt I acquired to pay for my education, and, annoyingly, they tightened the screws just the year I graduated. I couldn't pay them in cash, with interest. I had to repay by working as an alchemist wherever I was sent to.

Which would be somewhere in the boonies, because they obviously don't need an indentured alchemist to go somewhere actually desirable.

Jack had been incredibly supportive when I came to him to explain we'd need to uproot our lives and move south a couple of months after we got married. I only hoped he wouldn't regret it.

"So, where are they sending you?" he asked, pointing at the big map of Kalmar that was hanging on the wall.

I pointed.

"Here," I said. "Right here, on the coast, on the other side of the continent. It's a week's travel by train."

"That far," Jack said, in a careful tone. "Well, it seems like I'll have to make arrangements with my superiors. I'm sure they'll be understanding."

He sounded way too upbeat. I wasn't sure he was getting it.

"Jack," I said, impatiently, pacing the room. "Moving to Kesteven will be the end of your career. You will never make it further than Detective. You do understand it, right?"

"I kissed my career goodbye the moment I married you, darling," Jack said. He rarely used such words for me.

"And you'll have to give up all the benefits of technology," I said. "A proper network of roads for cars—"

"We don't have a car," Jack said.

"A train station with daily transcontinental trains," I continued.

"Which we never used," Jack said.

"Street lighting, pubs that don't close at ten pm, a university, alchemical labs, access to research libraries and archives, machining shops, and a world-class hospital," I said.

"They have a hospital in Eaton, I know that since the Kesteven Regiment is based there," Jack said, "and in Hambleton, too. A decent one. As for the rest… That sounds like a list of things you'd miss, not me."

"I will…" I said, and stopped pacing, walking directly into Jack's embrace. He patted my shoulder as I hugged him tightly. "Oh, Jack, I will miss Ashford. I didn't leave Crow Hill to end up in another neck of the woods place. And for six years! Stupid magic — had to add an extra year because of it."

I was forced to study magic after my forced Initiation, and I wasn't too happy about that. Especially since it cost money.

"While it is an undeveloped place," Jack noted, "it might not be so for longer. I've heard there's a new tax scheme set up by the government. Regions with average weights below the national mean can opt for a program that gives tax exempt status to firms that move there. With you moving there, I'm sure you can arrange something."

Jack always had just the right words for the moment.

My head was spinning with ideas. Now that I wasn't despairing anymore, I could see the potential.

"Close to a major port," I said, releasing myself from his embrace and circling around the area of the map that symbolized Kesteven, "poor, which means cheap prices for land, and tax exemptions. Maybe I could convince my boss to open a factory there. I thought I would have to resign — but I may not have to. It would be nice to continue being the Head of the Alchemy Department. Especially now that the company has grown."

I turned away from the map, to face Jack.

"So many possibilities," I said. "Now I just have to convince Mr. Bamber."

Mr. Alec Bamber, my boss, was the one who hired me, on my friend Joe's uncle's recommendation.

"I'm glad," Jack said, in that tone he used when he managed to get me to do something.

"Wait," I said. "Weren't we talking about you?"

"I don't know," Jack said. "Were we?"

It sounded like he expected it. Like he had prepared for this conversation long ago.

"You were in on this, right?" I asked him, pointing my finger at his chest. "You knew they were sending me to that godforsaken place. That's why you aren't upset. You knew about it."

"I didn't know which godforsaken place they were going to send you to," Jack said, "but I knew about the policy changes in the Floyd Scholarship funds months ago, yes. Your Grandpa told me about it when he was trying to convince me not to marry you."

"I don't know why he did that," I said. "He seems to like you well enough."

"He has his misgivings," Jack said, "because of our past. And my profession. Your Grandpa doesn't like law enforcement in general."

Our past. When Jack monitored me, as they did with many young magicals, while we were dating. When I discovered it, we broke up, but got reunited after three years.

"He's got enough reasons to," I said.

Grandpa certainly had a history with law enforcement. Our entire family did.

"I will ask for a transfer," Jack said. "I'm sure there won't be many problems. Especially since rural areas also have a deficit of skilled police."

Rural areas seemed to have a deficit in everything. Makes sense, since who would voluntarily live there?

"I don't even know where to start," I said. "There will be so many things to do when we move. You know Grandpa is moving too? And the Major. We'll need to get a house — considering my taste for modern facilities, we'll have to renovate everything, so it's better to buy a house. Renting wouldn't make sense. Thankfully, I have my royalties. That should be enough to buy a small house."

"I'll sell my apartment," Jack said. "We'll be able to buy quite a big house."

"You sure?" I asked. "Housing in Ashford is a good investment."

"I didn't buy it as an investment," Jack said, shrugging. "I bought it as a home. And my home is wherever my wife is."

"It sounds like you love your wife a lot," I said, in a low voice, toying with the buttons of his coat.

He gently pulled my fingers away, brought them toward his mouth, and kissed them.

"I do," he said. "And I'm sure she'll be waiting for me after work at our favorite restaurant. But I need to finish work first."

And with that, he shooed me away, before things got more heated.

That was a pity.

I always fantasized about doing something naughty at a police station.

Alas, Jack wasn't game.

My degree secure, my future decided, there wasn't much time for existential crises as I started preparing for my wedding reception.

Yes, I was already married.

But the way our wedding ceremony was conducted — in the middle of the night, at a notary's office — was considered quite irregular by everybody, including Jack's widowed mother. And my married one.

Who was coming to Ashford two days after my graduation, and staying until the reception.

With father and the boys, they bought tickets for a coupé cabin, the two youngest sharing a bunk bed.

They could have bought tickets for two compartments, since Grandpa was paying for everything, but they preferred to keep an eye on the boys.

It must have been one very long week for them, though.

I kept that in mind as I was waiting for them at the station. Uncle Billie wasn't here (he would be confused to see his sister, and we didn't want to confuse him in such a public place). Grandpa and mother were at speaking terms, but barely, so it was only Jack and me.

My parents had never met Jack before, so this would be the first time they would meet. And I was already married.

It was going to be awkward.

When the train stopped, the boys jumped out of the second-class carriage, eagerly running toward me.

I sent Jack to help my parents with their luggage while I gave a hug to each of my brothers.

"Big Sis!" Mikey shouted over the incoming trains' noise. "I missed you!"

I hugged him, ruffling his hair. Since when was Mikey so big? His head was almost at my chest level. Billie seemed to be at shoulder level, while Sam was an inch taller than I was. And Sam is fourteen, about to enter high school.

Who knows how much he'll grow later.

"Not so big anymore," I said, after hugging Billie and approaching Sam, who was standing a bit further, as if pretending he had nothing to do with us. "Sam is bigger than me now!"

I hugged him, his gangly, skinny body resisting for a bit before I felt his arms around my back.

Once all my brothers were hugged, and their hair ruffled, I turned around, looking for my parents.

They managed to get all their luggage out by now, with the help of Jack and the conductor. My mother was standing by the door, looking after the luggage, while the men lowered the last suitcase down the stairs.

"Let's help mom and dad with the luggage," I commanded the boys, heading towards mother.

She smiled faintly at me, the signs of a long and stressful trip evident on her face. I hugged her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, no ruffling hair this time around.

"Oh, Dana," she said. "I'm so sorry for what happened to you. That you had to get married because of us."

Was it tears I could hear in her voice? And guilt?

Did she take the accusations the Immigration folks were spewing, about my birth certificate being fake (and them being able to prove it), seriously?

"I was going to get married to Jack anyway," I said, stepping back a bit to see her face. "I wasn't forced to do anything I didn't want to do. And mother, it's not your fault they came up with those awful lies to come after me."

"Lies?" my mother asked, as I dried her face with a handkerchief. Can't let the boys see mother crying, or they'll get emotional, too.

After all, they're light mages about to hit puberty. They're sensitive to any expression of emotion.

Sam was already sensing something, because he was looking at us with worry.

"Yes, those lies about dad bringing me here with him, and you faking the birth certificate, naming me as your daughter," I whispered into her ears. "We'll discuss them tonight. Sam's watching."

That forced her to calm down, and she nodded, blowing her nose in my handkerchief.

I put it back into my pocket, kissed my father, and smiled at my family.

"Now, Jack is going to bring a trolley, but he will still need help to make sure nothing falls down. Let's see which one of you can arrange luggage best, so it doesn't fall."

Trick to get little boys to help — make it a competition.

5

David Bedwen wasn't sure how to talk with his daughter. But he had to do it. He invited her to his office after her nap, so they could talk away from the family's prying eyes.

He wanted to talk to her in private before she talked to Dana.

Claire came in, dressed in a conservative, grey mid-calf length skirt and button-up blouse. That was the clothing she wore in Crow Hill, when he visited them. It was quite a contrast from the young woman he remembered, who liked to experiment with colors and frills and skirt length. And what that cost him.

But then, she was the mother of four now, a respectable married woman.

He would need to make an effort to get to know this new Claire.

She was so different from the rebellious daughter he remembered.

Last time, they only had one private conversation. This time, he would try to get closer to her.

"I see you still keep mother's portrait," she said, nodding at his wife's portrait, hanging on the wall.

"Yes," he said, simply. What else could he say? That she was the love of his life? Claire already knew it.

She glanced around the room again, noting everything, and then sat on the chair in front of him, primly folding her skirts under her as she sat. She then started pouring the tea he just prepared.

Watching her like this, serious and composed, he realized how much he didn't know about his daughter. There, in Crow Hill, he was trying to understand the mystery of her disappearance, the reason she left her previous life to live in that remote, grim mining town. Trying to understand her secrets, he forgot to try to understand her.

This new, unfamiliar woman who only accepted him into her life because her daughter needed him.

"We need to talk about Dana," he said.

All their conversations were about Dana now. That strange child that brought his family together.

"Yes, we do," Claire agreed, placing the teapot back on the tray, and stirring a teaspoon in her tea. At least, he noticed, that hadn't changed. She still liked her tea black, no sugar or milk.

They stared at each other for a while, the silence only broken by the clinkering of the teaspoon on the fine china.

"While I did my best," he said, "Dana has a tendency to get in trouble. This time, though, it wasn't her fault."

"You mean the attempts to deport her because of the supposedly fake birth certificate," Claire nodded. "While Dana wrote me a letter, I'd like to hear your version. She frequently ignores things that don't fit her worldview."

"Yes," he acknowledged. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

He then told Claire everything that happened since their return to Ashford. She listened attentively, only the occasional tapping motion of her fingers revealing her real feelings.

"This Jack guy — do you trust him?" she asked him, in the end, when he finished the story.

"Dana does," he said, carefully.

"I know that," she said, dismissively, waving her hand. "Dana is too trusting. She trusts you, for starters. She is also way too forgiving. So. Do you trust him?"

"I wouldn't trust anybody with Dana," he said. "The same way I wouldn't trust anybody with you. She's my granddaughter; nobody is good enough for her. But he's a good enough man, and he seems loyal."

She seemed a bit softened by his love for her daughter, but she continued pressing.

"Good enough," she mused. Then she sighed. "Well, I guess I'll just have to trust her. She's my daughter, after all. He can't be that bad, if she chose him."

"And we're getting back to what I wanted to discuss with you," he said. "She isn't. Your biological daughter."

"As if biology was all that," Claire said, waving her hand dismissively. "She is. And no government stooge will tell me the opposite."