"I am sure," Grey said, "you are all acquainted with Magister Tomlinson and his apprentice, Miss Tavis. The second gentleman is Nikos Archaios, an alchemist with the International Conclave, who happens to hail from Greece. Mr. Archaios is the conclave's magic-taster."
The three newcomers all gave polite nods to the men gathered in the open area between the desks as Grey walked to join them. Pearl dithered, wanting to follow, but not sure she ought. Halfway there, Grey looked at her over his shoulder.
"Come along, Parkin," he said. "You're the closest to a sorceress we've got. And maybe you can learn something as well, Ferguson."
She'd been to the I-Branch workroom before, but only for quick moments, bearing messages mostly, but once with Grey when he "popped in for a word." The Briganti working with the evidence were mostly alchemists, with one or two conjurers, and Ferguson, the lone I-Branch wizard. Most of the Briganti conjurers worked in the field.
While spirit magic left as much residue as any other, it tended to be more straightforward than other magics, Grey had explained. One conjured the spirit that had left the residue, asked it what had happened, and that was that; barring the need to argue with a reluctant spirit or break an imposed spell of compulsion or silence or the like. Alchemy required spells with flames and powders and other arcana to read residues, and wizardry had its potions and poultices. Those things needed space to work.
The workrooms had taken over the cellars directly below the Briganti offices. The brick and stone walls were whitewashed to reflect the gas lighting that had been laid on. The alchemist's forge had been relegated to the courtyard, with both a narrow, one-person doorway with stairs, and a broad ramp with angled double doors as access.
A good half of the long chamber had been gated off with wire lattice and a barred door to safely store the various items under examination. Some were valuable. Most were not, but all had the potential-some more likely than others-of exploding. The explosion might be magical rather than physical. One never really knew. They'd had both.
The entire workroom was warded with layers upon layers of protection, so the explosions had caused relatively little damage. Still, the occasional eruption reminded of the need to maintain the precautions.
When Pearl trooped in with the others, the rope that had bound Angus Galloway for his murder lay atop the table where he'd been bound in the center of the working half of the room. The Briganti employed in the laboratory stood ranged about, staring glumly at the two items.
"Buck up, lads," Grey called out with cheer. "I've brought reinforcements."
Eyes brightened and smiles broke out as the half dozen or so men in the workroom welcomed their fellow al-chemists with handshakes, and the ladies with polite but wary nods. They obviously did not know what to do with the women in their midst.
"So." Harry leaned on the table, his fists landing smack in a thick oozy layer of blood magic he didn't see. "What have you tried so far?"
Pearl got lost in the technical gabble about alchemic catalysts and auras and processes, and soon found herself standing near the stair to the courtyard next to Elinor, Grey, Ferguson, and the pair of I-Branch conjurers, where they could still see and hear, but be out of the way of the alchemists' free-for-all.
" 'Ave you tried refiner's fire?" Harry asked.
"They're organics," one of the Briganti protested. "The table and the rope. They'll just burn up and we'll have nothing left to test."
"You don't burn the whole thing, eedjit." That man had a Scottish accent. "Just bits."
"It's still organic material," the first man insisted. "Impermanent. It can't stand up to refiner's fire. However much goes into the fire, it will be utterly consumed too quickly for us to learn anything."
Harry shook his head at them. "Wot's the first law, ya bunch o' yobs? Nothing is ever utterly lost-"
"Merely transformed." The others repeated the final words with him.
"That goes for organics as well as elements." Harry smacked the debater on the back of his head. "You should know that, Tipple. Everything's made up of elements in greater or lesser part. It's just the different combinations that make us different. Organics, like wood and hemp, got more of the fire element in 'em than stone or metal does, so you watch the fire as it burns. The fire itself will tell you what it's got. And then the ash after."
"I told you," the Scottish accent said. "Refiner's fire was the next step. You should ha' listened to me."
"He's listening now." Harry took a folding knife from one of the worktables and cut off a piece of rope, perhaps the length of his hand. "Why don't you see about acquirin' us a bit o' that table to test, McNair?"
The observers had to move aside to allow the al-chemists access through the door to the forge outside. Pearl assumed it was kept there because refiners' fire was too volatile, too powerful, to be lit indoors, especially with gas jets nearby. As they passed, Grey called the Greek, Archaios, aside.
"I was hoping you could give young Ferguson here some pointers on using that magic-sensitive nose of his. And perhaps assist my apprentice in understanding what it is she's sensing? I suspect she may be aware of more than she knows." Grey's request surprised Pearl.
Did she have a better sense than she thought? She hoped so. She couldn't help a little bounce on her toes. Learning this way was much more interesting than reading.
Archaios gave a graceful bow of his head. "That is why I am here. Let us begin with the alchemist's spell, since that is where I began. Wizards and apprentices?" He gestured toward the door. "I will even tutor conjurers, if you are so inclined."
Grey gave him a thin smile. "By all means. Lead on."
Elinor was a wizard and an apprentice, so she had a double invitation. Pearl scrambled up the stairs in the lead. Her skirts rubbed half the dirt off the door frame as she squeezed them through. Elinor's took the rest, but her skirts were dark green, not ice-blue. The dirt didn't show on the green. Council Hall servants were going to have to do their jobs better, now that sorcery was back.
"Magic-masters, check your apprentices' shields," Archaios said as he emerged into the courtyard directly behind Elinor.
Pearl could shield her own self, thank you. But Grey, who followed the Greek, came to check them anyway, reinforcing with an air-drawn sigil of protection. Pearl wondered who he'd put on watch. Walther the Prussian, maybe? She hoped so.
Harry left the forge to come check Elinor's shields. They looked fine to Pearl, but Harry did as Grey had and added another. No one checked Ferguson's shields, since he'd passed his master's test. He was on his own, as were the I-Branch conjurers.
Archaios led his little group around to the far side of the courtyard and pushed the alchemists aside so that the women, both of them scarcely taller than the hood of the forge, could see. "Before we begin the spell," Archaios said, "what can you read? No-" He raised a hand when Pearl opened her mouth to blurt out her answer. "Think first. Sense carefully."
Some of Grey's alchemists fidgeted, impatient with the wait, but even they, like everyone else, seemed to be opening their magic senses to pick up what they could.
Ferguson frowned, shook his head.
"Yes?" Archaios looked at him.
"I can't sense anything but sorcery. The scent of blood is almost overwhelming." Even his freckles had gone pale now.
Elinor drew a vial from her reticule and handed it to him. With a curious, somewhat suspicious look, Ferguson opened it and sniffed. His eyes went wide in amazement, and he took a sip, capped it, and handed it back to Elinor. "I've never tasted a better restorative."
Elinor blushed and curtseyed, a tiny dip of thanks. "I am honored by your praise, sir."
"Can we get on with it?" Harry called out, scowling. "Fire's only getting hotter."
"Can anyone else sense the sorcery imbued in these pieces?" Archaios asked.
Pearl's hand shot up. Elinor raised her hand, as did one of the conjurers, and Ferguson, of course. Grey waved a finger for half a moment, and Duncan slowly put up a tentative hand.
Archaios looked at him. "Can you sense it? What is your name?"
Duncan identified himself. "I think I can sense it. I wouldn't have, if I hadn't been with Miss Parkin and the magister, cleaning out the murder location after everything was brought here. I believe that what I thought simply a part of the atmosphere is actually sorcerous magic. I think we have been living in a fog of sorcery without ever recognizing it, because no one knew what it was."
"Or if someone did recognize it as magic," Harry said, "we wouldn't let 'em be trained because they were women."
"Perhaps if Miss Parkin were to draw off the sorcery in these pieces," Grey suggested, "the rest of us could learn how to recognize it as magic."
14
"WOULD YOU BE so kind, Miss Parkin?" Mr. Archaios turned his smile upon Pearl. It would have rendered her quite insensible, had exposure to Grey not made her immune to any handsomeness less than perfection.