The Alchymist's Cat by Robin Jarvis

Author:Robin Jarvis [Robin Jarvis]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-03-22T04:00:00+00:00

Dab pushed her cheek against the boy’s palm and purred. Will stroked her head then scratched under her chin. The kitten rolled onto her side and closed her beautiful amber eyes as she yawned. From her place before the hearth, Imelza came forward. She gave the boy a wary look then sat beside her daughter.

“Stop that at once,” she hissed, “it is most unseemly—you are not tame, child.”

Shyly Dab looked up at the boy then remembered the proprieties. “Forgive me, Mother,” she said, “I forgot myself.”

“A hunter never forgets,” admonished Imelza. “The life here is too easy, that is the problem. Your instincts grow dull. When the weather turns we shall escape.”

Dab said nothing, but her mind revolted at the thought of leaving the attic. Of course she wanted to see the outside world, but not stay there and have to kill for survival.

Will watched the cats and laughed; anyone would think they were talking to one another. He gave Dab one last pat on the head and Doctor Spittle entered.

“The time has come,” he cried excitedly as he rushed over to one of the shelves. A flurry of parchments was thrown over his shoulder as he rooted amongst the jars and pots. A terrified screech issued from the shelf as a small black shape darted out and raced behind a cupboard. “Cursed slug!” roared the alchemist. “Why is it always underfoot? Aha!” He brought out the small bottle which contained Magnus Zachaire and set it spinning on the table.

A prolonged whine echoed from within and the blue light pulsed in fright. “Enough!” pleaded the spirit. “Dost thou reckon my suffering too small that thou wouldst seek to compound it?”

Promptly the old man slapped his hand upon the bottle and put a stop to its revolutions. “Good morrow, Magnus,” he uttered. “I trust you are ready to unravel the conundrums you have set?”

“I am.”

Doctor Spittle took the robe and spread it out upon the table with the embroidered lining uppermost. “Then let us begin,” he said.

The ethereal face appeared in the bottle; a fierce glint crept into the eyes as they surveyed the velvet gown and a strange smile formed upon the lips.

“What has amused you?” rapped out the alchemist sharply. “Is there a matter here to cause merriment?”

The smile disappeared and the spirit shook its head. “’Twere only old memories which haunted me,” it said quickly.

“Well, we don’t want any of that to bore the breeches off us,” sniffed the old man tapping the table in irritation. “Kindly get on with the task set.”

Magnus turned his attention back to the message embroidered on the lining. “He who wouldst seek the Philosopher’s Stone must know this,” he began.

Doctor Spittle nodded eagerly and reached for his notes as the spirit continued.

“This most wondrous element is a stone yet not a stone, it is of God yet not of God, it is flesh yet mineral also, it is secret but known to all.”

“Yes, yes, we are all aware of that tired chestnut, but of the formula? Explain the symbols you have used!”

“So be it,” returned the spirit.

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