Forty

 

“You are here to stop the supply of the magic-removal powder,” a young woman said.

“Yes. Our goddess sent us to bring back the beings that were taken to make it, and to stop the dust being made,” Alasdair said.

“It is not for your goddess to decide,” the older man that had challenged us said.

I levelled a firm glare at him.

“Would you like to argue with her?” I asked.

Alasdair snorted. “Your alchemy is no match for a deity.”

The man leaned back in his chair and smiled.

Alchemists were arrogant, I’d known that before I walked into the building, but seeing the self-assurance on his face, the unwavering belief that he could take on the goddess was something else.

“We see no reason to allow you to interfere in what is strictly alchemist business,” the woman said.

“But it isn’t strictly alchemist business, and you know that. Witchlings and such were taken, that makes it our business,” I said.

“And you’re sure they were taken? What if they came of their own free will?” she challenged.

“Are you going to try and argue that they were entirely of sound mind while under the influence of one of your drugs?” Alasdair asked.

“And what if they changed their mind once they were here, can you honestly tell me you released every one that expressed regret?” I asked.

They sat silently staring at us.

“The alchemists are not to be harmed during this process,” the blue-haired man said.

“If they try to harm us, or have harmed the witchlings and such, we are within our right to use deadly force,” Alasdair said.

The alchemists murmured and exchanged dark and unhappy looks between them.

“They aren’t members of the guild. They broke our laws,” an older woman said.

“They are still alchemists,” the blue-haired man said.

“If we allow them to interfere here, it will set a precedent,” a younger woman said.

“Let me put it like this,” Alasdair said, leaning forward. “Either you help us find them and relations between our groups remain pleasant, or you don’t, and my goddess starts looking into all of the other things your guild is doing to throw the balance off within Europe.”

Silence fell over the room. The shifter that had led us into the room growled and muttered under her breath.

“Fine. They were removed from our guild for breaking our laws. They were extremists who wanted to make magic a core part of the world. We will help you,” the blue-haired man said.

“Give them the map, Maria,” the shifter woman said.

A young petite woman with large chocolate brown eyes glared mutinously but pulled out a small cream-coloured piece of paper. She pushed it across the table to Alasdair.

“This will show you the location of the alchemists’ brands,” the shifter said.

I couldn’t keep my expression neutral. The idea of branding the alchemists wasn’t something I’d been expecting. Yes, the enforcers were branded, but it hadn’t occurred to me that alchemists would want some permanent mark like that.

“We bear a brand to show that we agree to obey the rules set forth by the guild, and it allows us to identify those who have earnt the better business conditions,” the shifter said.

“If they left the guild, then why do they still bear your brand?” I asked.

The blue-haired man leaned back in his chair, the rest of the alchemists remained uptight and tense. The silence filled the room.

“Because this council agrees with the extreme views of the alchemists, and thus felt it was wrong to remove their brand and the privileges that come with it,” Alasdair said coldly.

The blue-haired man’s mouth flickered with a smile, his eyes sparked with amusement.

An older blonde woman ground her teeth but said nothing. It seemed that the council was split on that point. That couldn’t possibly be a good thing.

Alasdair and I looked down at the map of the city. Two emerald green dots were moving slowly down a street on the opposite side of the city. There was no point trying to fight with the council over it.

“Your cooperation has been noted,” Alasdair said before he stood.

He put the map away inside his suit jacket, and I led the way out of the room back into the hallway. The scent of fire and peat was stronger on the walk back, I paused and looked at the door. Alasdair put his hand on my elbow and guided me forwards again.

We had to focus on saving the witchlings, I reminded myself. Every minute counted and could make a difference between bringing them back alive or not. An awful weight formed in the pit of my stomach as I realised I’d assumed they were dead and we were just stopping future kidnappings and murders.