a show. He lived like that all the damn time, thought nothing of it. I didn’t say anything, naturally, but I was shocked.
Over dinner I told him about my recent adventures, and then he showed me his laboratory, of which I could tell he was very proud. I know the basics of alchemy, but Genseric’s research is cutting-edge, and he soon lost me in technical details. The ultimate objective was the same, of course: the search for the reagent or catalyst that can change the fundamental nature of one thing into another. I don’t believe this is actually possible, but I did my best to sound impressed and interested. He had shelves of pots and jars, two broad oak benches covered with glassware, a small furnace that resembled my father’s forge in the way a prince’s baby son resembles a sixteen-stone wrestler. He couldn’t resist showing me a few tricks, including one that filled the room with purple smoke and made me cough till I could barely see. After that, I pleaded weariness after my long journey, and I was shown to this vast bedroom, with enough furniture in it to clutter up the whole of a large City house. The bed was the size of a small barn, with genuine tapestry hangings (the marriage of Wit and Wisdom, in the Mezentine style). I was just about to undress when some woman barged in with a basin of hot water. I don’t think I want to be rich. I’d never get any peace.
I woke up suddenly, feeling like a bull was standing on my chest. I could hardly breathe. It was dark, so I tried lux in tenebris. It didn’t work.
Oh, I thought.
My fault, for not putting up wards before I closed my eyes. There’s an old military proverb; the worst thing a general can ever say is: I never expected that. But here, in the house of my dear old friend— My fault.
I could just about speak. “Who’s there?” I said.
“I’d like you to forgive me.” Genseric’s voice. “I don’t expect you will, but I thought I’d ask, just in case. You always were a fair-minded man.”
The illusion of pressure, I realized, wasn’t so much the presence of some external force as an absence. For the first time in my life, it wasn’t there—it, the talent, the power, the ability. Virtusexercitus, a nasty fifth-level Form, suppresses the talent, puts it to sleep. For the first time, I realized what it felt like being normal. Virtus isn’t used much because it hurts—not the victim, but the person using it. There are other Forms that have roughly the same effect. He’d chosen virtus deliberately, to show how sorry he was.
“This is about the chair of Logic,” I said.
“I’m afraid so. You see, you’re not my only friend at the Studium.”
I needed to play for time. “The bear trap.”
“That was me, yes. Two cousins of my head gardener. It’s a shame you had to kill them, but I understand. I have the contacts, you see, being an outsider.”
You have to concentrate like mad to keep virtus going. It drains you. “You must like Gnatho very much.”
“Actually, it’s just simple intellectual greed.” He sighed. “I needed access to a formula, but it’s restricted. My friend has the necessary clearance. He got me the formula, but it came at a price. Normally I’d have worked around it, tried to figure it out from first principles, but that would take years, and I haven’t got that long. Even with the formula I’ll need at least ten years to complete my work, and you just don’t know how long you’ve got, do you?” Then he laughed. “Sorry,” he said. “Tactless of me, in the circumstances. Look, will you forgive me? It’s not malice, you know. You’re a scholar; you understand. The work must come first, mustn’t it? And you know how important this could be; I just told you about it.”
I hadn’t been listening when he told me. It went straight over my head, like geese flying south for the winter. “You’re saying you had no choice.”
“I tried to get it through proper channels,” he said, “but they refused. They said I couldn’t have it because I wasn’t a proper member of the Studium any more. But that’s not right, is it? I may not live there, but I’m still one of us. Just because you go away, it doesn’t change anything, does it?”
“You could have come back.” They always do, sooner or later.
“Maybe. No, I couldn’t. I’m ashamed to say, I like it too much here. It’s comfortable. There’re no stupid rules or politics, nobody to sneer at me or stab me in the back because they want my chair. I don’t want to go back. I’m through with all that.”
“The boy at Riens,” I said. “Did you—?”
“Yes, that was me. I found him and notified the authorities. I had to get you to come out this way.”
“You did more than that.” I was guessing, but I had nothing to lose. “You found a natural, and you filled his head with spite and hate. I imagine you appeared to him in dreams. Fulgensorigo?”
“Naturally. I knew they’d send you. You’re the best at that sort of thing. If it had just been an unregistered natural, they could have sent anyone. To make sure it was you, I had to turn him nasty. I’m sorry. I’ve caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people.”
“But it’s worth it, in the long run.”
“Yes.”
Pain, you see, is the distraction. As long as I could hurt him, in the conscience, where it really stings, I was still in the game. “It’s not, you know. Your theory is invalid. There’s a flaw. I spotted it when you were telling me about it. It’s so obvious, even I can see it.”
I didn’t need Forms to tell me what he was thinking. “You’re lying.”
“Don’t insult me,” I said. “Not on a point of scholarship. I wouldn’t do that.”
Silence. Then he said, “No, you wouldn’t. All right, then, what is it? Come on, you’ve got to tell me!”
“Why? You’re going to kill me.”
“Not necessarily. Come on, for God’s sake! What did you see?”
And at that precise moment, my fingertips connected with what they’d been blindly groping for: the bottle of aqua fortis I’d slipped into the pocket of my gown earlier, when we were both blinded by the purple smoke. I flipped out the cork with my thumbnail, then thrust the bottle in what I devoutly hoped was the right direction.
Aqua fortis has no pity; it’s incapable of it. They use it to etch steel. People who know about these things say it’s the worst pain a man can suffer.
I’d meant it for Gnatho, of course; purely in self-defense, if he ambushed me and tried to hex me. Pain would be my only weapon in that case. I had no way of getting hold of the stuff at the Studium, where they’re so damn fussy about restricted stores, but I knew my good friend Genseric would have some, and would be slapdash about security.
The pain hit him; he let go of virtus. I came back to life. The first thing I did was lux in tenebris, so I could see exactly what I’d done to him. It wasn’t pretty. I saw the skin bubble on his face, pull apart to reveal the bone underneath; I watched the bone dissolve. You have to believe me when I say that I tried to save him, mundus vergens, but I just couldn’t concentrate with that horrible sight in front of my eyes. Pain paralyzes, and you can’t think straight. It ate deep into his brain, I told him I forgave him, and then he died.
