Herb-Witch (Lord Alchemist Duology) Read Online Free Page B

with him."
    "Too
blighted memorable, Kesskess."
    "Herb-witches
can be, Jonno. Unlike . . . bakers, today?"
    "And
chimney sweeps yesterday, and perhaps manure collectors tomorrow."
    "So
long as you're not filching watchman tabards the day after." She
ran her fingers along one swoop of her hair, from forehead to base of
neck where the ties fastened it, to be sure it was hanging right.
"Oh, 'ware the gray watch. My guild's taking notice, I think."
    Jontho
whistled a low note. "What guild officer bailed you out?"
    She
snorted. "So you can move to his territory, or be sure to keep
out?"
    "Mayhap
both." He grinned.
    "You'd try , wouldn't you." She smoothed the other side of her
hair. No reason to lie, she supposed. She didn't have to tell
everything, even to Jontho. "My Guild Master himself. Don't ask
me why the Lord Alchemist was rescuing an herb-witch."
    Jontho
started choking exaggeratedly; Kessa ignored him, adding, "Mayhap
he was just checking that the guild stipends were getting to the
right guards, and decided to take an interest."
    "Kessa!
Sweet Rain and Earth! And you confessed to him?"
    It'd
been stupid. She could've claimed total innocence. She'd not had to
give any truth, not really. Surely he'd have brought her out just the
same, and fed her, and taken her home? Surely. She grimaced. "I
don't discount truth potions, Jonno-bro."
    "Was
it . . . hard, to keep us out of your story?"
    Kessa
slid her basket down her arm and held its handle with both hands.
"You know me. Put just 'bout anything in my mouth without harm."
    "Feed
it to Kess; she'll survive anything."
    "Aye,"
she agreed. "Now, how is Laita? Does she need any more
healing brews? Dry tea?"
    He
shook his head. "No, she's still got till the end of the month
on that. And she's getting her strength back. Should be working again
in a fiveday or less." He tried to smile again, but it was wan.
    "I
wish she'd a better trade." Beautiful, sickly Laita. Kessa
added, "Or get a proper patron who'd take care of her."
    "And
her brother, too?" Jontho shook his head. "Not everyone
goes straight, Kess."
    "It's
not that hard," she muttered at her basket.
    "You
were in debt to that blighted 'M'lord Reus' for years! And handing
him potions on the side to pay the 'interest'!"
    Kessa
glowered directly at Jontho. "She could try. She's free of the
blighted wretch now, and even the Lord Alchemist himself doesn't
think Darul can be cured. Help her get a steady patron, and out of
those wretched taverns, before she gets sicker than I can mend."
    Even
her crèche-brother flinched from her unconcealed eyes, looking over
her shoulder instead. "Kess–" He broke off. "Watch
coming." He faded back down the narrow gap between the
buildings.
    It
was better not to draw notice by glancing nervously over one's
shoulder. Instead, she twitched her head, shaking her hair back into
the two curves that shielded her face. (If she'd Laita's curls, the
style would never've worked. Her straight hair almost looked elegant,
she fancied.) She wanted to follow Jontho through the alley, but
that'd look too suspicious. Either they'd leave her be, or . . .
not, and she'd have to drop names. Iathor Kymus, Lord Alchemist
and my Guild Master.
    Kessa
hated being so beholden to the man, even when he wasn't there.
    She'd
made it half-way across the market square before the pair of watchmen
showed up to either side of her. She didn't recognize them from the
group who'd taken her to the prison, in that chill, pallid dawn, but
one (freckled, with fine red hair on his bare forearms) had a
Weavers' badge on his watchman's tabard. The other (tanned and
light-brown beard she'd glimpsed through her hair) was a Stonemason's
man. They smelled of light sweat, from brisk walking in the sun.
    The
Weaver-paid guard touched her shoulder, then her basket, hanging from
the crook of her elbow. "You an herb-witch?"
    No
reason for that question in that suspicious tone, unless he'd heard
of her arrest. And, blight it, no reason for her