Chapter Twenty-six

From a completed epic fantasy novel told across two time periods.

Richard

The first rain in weeks was flooding the streets, converting the city of Oslidor into a muddy swamp. Silting water rushed downhill blocking Richard’s path to the royal herbalism laboratories as he attempted to begin his conscription. His enhanced vision was not helping as water poured over his eyes incessantly, turning his world into a damp nightmare. The storm had come without warning, and without a rain cloak, Richard was so thoroughly soaked that he did not believe he would ever be dry again.

What stung most was that this was his second trip to the lab that day. The first attempt to enter his new work station had been thwarted by guards demanding identification documents. Richard had not been forewarned that he would need to provide any documentation to enter the facilities. After a few terse words, he had thrown his arms up and returned home. When the rain began, he had folded his notarized tax identification paper and tucked it into the pocket of his cloth trousers. He wondered now if the ink on the paper had run to the point of illegibility.

Deciding that it was impossible to become wetter than he currently was, Richard sighed and strode into the newly formed river. He splashed his way across the nearly knee-high, foaming water and came to the gated entrance of the laboratories. Having reached his destination, the rain mockingly began to lighten to where he could see more than five feet in front of himself. Richard called out his arrival to the guards who he could now see sitting down under the roof of the guard post. One of the four guards on duty looked up at him across from the gate, stared for a few heartbeats, then went back to playing cards with his friends.

Richard bit down hard on his lower lip as he watched the bone-dry men laughing beneath the entrance’s roof. “I have the document you requested!” he yelled through the rain.

The guard who had looked at him before stared out again. Richard was sure he could see him and was being intentionally opaque. “Is there someone there?” the man called into the rain.

“Believe it or not, there is. The person who works here who you sent away has returned. Funny that, no?” Richard called back.

The guard put a hand to his ear, then said something to his companions which made them laugh. “If there’s someone out there, show yourself. Can’t see a damn thing through this blasted rain.”

Already close enough that his nose was a fingernail’s length from touching the gate, Richard did not know what the man expected of him. He looked for a bell or chime, but found nothing. Taking a deep breath, Richard crossed his arms and yelled as loudly as he could. “I’m in front of the gods damn gate!”

The lead guard pointed across the table. The man across from him slowly stood up, took his time putting on a rain cloak, and then walked over to the gate. “There’s someone here!” he yelled over his shoulder when he saw Richard. Smiling in the smug satisfaction only achievable by the dim witted, he opened the gate for Richard to pass.

Under the roof, Richard held out his paper. The lead guard spit out some tobacco juice and took the identification document. When he unfolded it, he made a scene of flipping the paper this way and that, turning it over and upside down. “What in the Depthless Sea is this?”

“A notarized tax identification paper.”

“Don’t look like it.”

Shaking now, Richard yanked the paper out of the man’s hands. The ink had smudged beyond recognition, but the wax seal remained in decent enough condition. Richard pointed to it as he held the paper up. “This seal is from the tax ministry. You’ve had your fun, now let me in.”

The guard looked back at his friends, all of who were back sitting at the table, watching enthusiastically. “Security’s tight here. I may have to run this by a few more people.”

“If you can’t recognize the seal because you’re too idiotic, that’s not my fault. I work here now and you had better let me in as I make much more money than you and I will not hesitate to demand your dismissal.”

“I could kill you right here and now and there’s not a damn thing you can do about that.”

The gate having been locked behind him, Richard realized the man was probably correct. And at the very least, he wanted to live long enough to have him fired. That being so, Richard apologized and waited until a fancily dressed bureaucrat came out to check his document. The woman gave the seal a brief look, nodded, and walked back inside.

“Right this way,” the guard said to Richard, making a sweeping gesture with his arms which delighted his friends.

There was no indication of which direction he should head after he went through the large double doors that opened into a nondescript lobby. The woman from before sat at a desk in the middle of the room, scribbling with a quill pen.

Puddles of water trailing him, Richard approached the desk. The woman did not look up even as Richard announced, “My name is Professor Richard Dosple. I am looking for the Royal Herbalist.”

The shortest pause in writing to point to a door on her left was the only response Richard received. This has so gravely surpassed my fearful expectations that I cannot believe this is anything but a nightmare.

Through the indicated door, Richard walked into a long hallway. There were four doors on each side that he could see. He turned to look back at where he had come from, then visualized the one-way conversation he would have with the woman at the desk and opened the first door on his right. There was no light in the room, but Richard could make out stacks of crates piled up to the ceiling. Upon closer inspection, the crates nearest the door were filled with green leaves. Fisilin. A necessary ingredient for any herbalism tonic. Each crate he inspected contained the same. Richard had never seen so much of the plant before. This would last me decades. Perhaps this job will be more interesting than I had anticipated.

The new door on the right led to another room full of identical crates. The additional rooms on that side of the hall were likewise packed with herbalist ingredients, but these of a variety of types. It was not until the last room on the left that Richard finally arrived at the laboratory proper.

The room was much larger than his laboratory at the university. It was well lit with oil lanterns hanging from the ceiling and in nearly every other conceivable location, making metal and glass equipment shine in the light. Richard tried his hardest to find a single blemish on the surface of the equipment, but had no success. The only people he found were two custodians who were wringing out mops. Where is everyone else? I know I’m at least an hour and a half late.

Richard cleared his throat to get the attention of the custodians. They both looked down at the water Richard had brought into the lab, shook their heads and cursed under their breath. When Richard asked where the Royal Herbalist was, the female custodian grunted and pointed to a door at the back of the room. As Richard came closer to the door, he could hear voices on the other side.

Inside, a collection of a dozen or so individuals sat around an oval-shaped table. Three of his former students, including his unofficial protégé, Rowland, were amongst the strangers. They had all been looking over at a short, stocky elderly woman who was standing by a chalk board upon which a schedule was written.

“Are you intentionally late?” the woman asked as she placed her hands on her hips.

“I had to return home for my identification documents,” Richard replied.

“What on Earth for?”

I have made an enemy today.

“The guards insisted I show identification to enter.”

“Ah,” the woman said tapping a piece of chalk in the palm of her opposite hand. “I informed Kowleitzer that the professor would be joining us today. He must not like professors. Or, he was in a bad mood. Or he is drunk. I will fix that, whatever the issue is. You are quite wet,” she added.

“It was raining harshly during my second trip through the city.”

“Now the custodians will be upset and I will have to fix that as well. I do not have time to fix everything here. That is one reason I requested you. Not to fix things, but to give me more time. I need time. I do not have enough time.”

Richard selected not to respond and instead sat in the lone unoccupied chair which was between two woman he did not know. They feigned at not being perturbed when water splashed as he sat.

“I do not have time to call you Professor Dosple. You will be Richard. Your name is on the schedule,” the woman said. “You may call me Esther. You missed the meeting, but the schedule is self-explanatory. I have to meet with the Divine King now. Please get to work. We are low on time. It is crucial that you begin working immediately.”

With that, Esther, the Royal Herbalist, shuffled across the room and disappeared through a side door.

The communication in this facility is sorely lacking.

Everyone who was sitting had already stood up by the time Esther had left the room. They passed by Richard without comment, except for Rowland, who gave a curt hello and a lifeless attempt at a grin. A moment later, only one man remained in the room with Richard.

“Esther will want me to bring you up to date with our experiments,” the man said. “My name is Carlisle.”

Carlisle, a moderately-sized man Richard judged to be in his fifties, led the former professor to the chalkboard. “Your schedule is as you see here.”

Dawn to dusk was written at the top and underlined twice. Grimacing, Richard found his name on the left, and then followed it across the board. He was listed at being in the laboratory ‘under Carlisle’s supervision’ for the entirety of his day, with a twenty-minute break to eat. He would also be attending a meeting once a week.

“Truly illuminating,” Richard remarked.

“According to the schedule, you are to follow my instructions,” Carlisle told him. “The royal herbalist has proclaimed that our top priority is to sort out the active elements and reactions in a newly acquired tonic that provides permanence so that we may apply this effect to other, more suitable existing tonics.”

“You are speaking of the tonic which I developed in the university.”

“The royal herbalist did not elaborate on the tonic’s origins.”

“I’m telling you that I created it. If you do not want to believe me, ask her directly.”

Carlisle looked to consider the offer. He made brief eye contact with Richard, then pursed his lips. “She is simply too busy for that. Follow me, please.”

His supervisor led Richard back into what he assumed was the main lab. People were sitting at desks, looking through papers, writing notes, measuring out ingredients, and adding coal to the largest furnace Richard had ever seen. The two men continued walking until they reached a counter that protruded from the wall, its surface covered with an assortment of scales, knives, and glass oil lamps.

“As I said, our top priority is extending permanence to existing tonics. Our work has already begun on analyzing the first permanence solution so that we may transfer the active reaction to our strength tonic.”

“I can simply tell you what the reaction in my solution is.”

“The royal herbalist was clear on this.”

It took all of Richard’s strength not to throw an oil lamp at the man. He wanted to barge in on whatever council meeting or planning session Esther was attending with the Divine King, and inform them that he was taking back all of the samples of his permanent vision-enhancing tonic, destroying them, and never sharing a single piece of information on their creation. If they would not give him credit for the work he did, they could go through the efforts of doing it all again themselves.

“Your task,” Carlisle continued, ignoring the lack of response from Richard, “is to measure out fisilin in increments of quarter grams.”

This time, Richard interrupted before Carlisle could finish his statement. “I am the one who developed the tonic we are analyzing; I will not be made to do mindless grunt work. I should be leading this project.”

“The project is first and foremost about developing a permanent strength enhancement. The royal herbalist developed the strength enhancement many years ago, and is therefore most qualified to lead. Furthermore, as royal herbalist, what she dictates goes without complaint, especially from newly hired workers.”

“Hired! That’s a laugh. I was not given a choice. And why is our first task focused on a strength enhancement? There are more pressing needs. There are people who have serious medical conditions which we could relieve.”

The side of Carlisle’s mouth twitched. “This is the royal herbalism laboratory. We serve the Divine King and it is of the utmost importance that he has a strong military, a force which can defeat any enemy.”

“This nation has not been at war for decades. This is a waste of time. Time which Esther claimed was lacking.”

“You are to refer to her as the royal herbalist, and her time is lacking, yours is not. And, most importantly, it is not for you to decide. Now, we need the fisilin in the said increments up to one hundred grams by the end of your shift. I have other people who need my assistance.”

Carlisle was already walking away when Richard yelled back at him, “Where do I find a change of clothes?”

“At your home, one would assume,” Carlisle said without breaking his stride.

I need to speak with Esther. I can make her see reason if I can get her alone.

That would have to wait, unfortunately. Seeing no other options at the moment, Richard began chopping fisilin leaf, a task he would have assigned to a student as a punishment for poor marks on an exam. The injustice was duly noted and would not be forgotten.

His clothes were still drenched four hours later when he felt a presence behind him. Richard turned around, the clinging of his wet shirt making the gesture awkward and uncomfortable, to find the royal councilor, Yara standing before him.

“These are not the conditions I expected to find you in,” she said.

“Yes. This work is more suitable for an intern.”

“I meant your clothing. You are wet and malodourous.”

“Oh.” He could not think of a good response for that, though he knew one was laying in wait to surface and demand his attention once he was in bed that night.

“Despite your appearance and odor, I need to speak with you. In private.”

Richard looked at his surroundings. The room was so large, with sections blocked off by walls, that he had no idea how many people were there. He could see three right now, each roughly twenty yards away from him. He had glanced back at them periodically while he was working, but they had never attempted to look his way, at least that he had noticed. All in all, it seemed he and Yara were already isolated enough for a private conversation. “I have a lot of work to do by the end of the day, so get out with it,” he said.

“It is not for you to give me orders. Follow me, but keep your distance. I was not merely joking when I said that you have a foul odor.”

She led him back into the meeting room with the chalkboard. He had, evidently, missed his meal break. He doubted he would be allowed to take it at another time even though he had worked through it.

“Sit. Over there,” Yara said, pointing across the table to the chair furthest away from her. Richard did as he was instructed, his wet stockings irritating him with every step he took.

“What do you know of the sudden disappearance of professor Woller Doclin,” she asked once he was seated.

Again? “He was my friend and colleague. But you already know that.”

“I do.”

“Why are you asking me about him again?”

Yara’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”

“Your investigator, Gregorich questioned me a few days ago. Did he not report back to you? I know the communication here is less than ideal.”

Silence. The only motion from the royal councilor was the blinking of her eyes.

“Describe this man.”

“You do not even know what Woller looked like after all of this time?”

“No! Describe this man, Gregorich.”

Richard had to think about what his response should be. Something here was not right and he did not want to get even more involved in this than he already was. Is this a test of some sort? Or have I begun to unravel another layer of mystery regarding Woller?

“He was slightly shorter than me, perhaps a few years older as well.”

“What else?” Yara snapped.

“I don’t know… I believe he wore a brown shirt. I’m not sure what else to say.”

“Describe his face.”

“I do not remember it too well. He was serious looking, I suppose. Again, I believe a few years older than me.”

Intuition, and his hatred for the woman, told him not to give the detail he knew would be the most important. Let her struggle with this. She has put me in a much worse situation.

“Have you spoken of your meeting with him to anyone else?”

“No. Why are you asking?”

“He… Gregorich… over-stepped his boundaries. If he already received your information, I will speak with him and not waste your time. But do not speak of this to anyone else. If you do, I will know, and that will be a significant problem for you. Trust me on that. Go back to work now.”

Richard got up and left without comment. He believed her when she said she would not hesitate to do him harm. What he did not believe was that she would obtain any information from Gregorich. She had been knocked too much off balance for the man to simply have over-stepped his boundaries. There was more to this than that. Yara was unsettled and confused. For that, Richard was glad. It was the only positive of his entire day.