The Gorgon's Blood Solution Read Online Free Page B

heart of goodness; it was about finding the path to salvation within one’s self, the old merchant had even gone so far to say once, in the midst of an exasperated lecture to Marco.  At the end of the path of true alchemical research, which Algornia so truly loved to dabble in, there was the discovery of purity in one’s own heart and soul – so the master had told Marco repeatedly.  A great alchemist would achieve great discoveries, and produce great transmutations, only after he had achieved the greatest task of purifying his own soul.
    All such talk was wasted on Marco though.  While he was interested in the prospect of changing lead and other base metals to gold – something he had yet to see any true evidence of, despite the myths that his friends persisted in repeating, that it was possible – he was more interested in simply learning the exciting and mysterious and potentially lucrative formulas that he knew Algornia knew.  He wanted to someday be his own master, and have his own shop with apprentices to do all the work, and to make all the money he dreamed of by selling solutions to the public.  And a part of him did occasionally wander off in a flight of fancy to fantasize about preparing a love philter that he could use to enchant each and every pretty girl who caught his fancy.
    Typically, Algornia sighed, usually about ten minutes into each such lecture on the spiritual purity that Marco needed to pursue, then ended the discussion with a muttered, “why do we waste youth on the young and shallow?”  Then he would give Marco a new assignment to do something mundane, tell the boy that someday he would understand or would give up alchemy, and leave the work room to return to the front of the shop.
    And so it was that when Marco sleepily awoke the next morning, he didn’t automatically think about the purity of his soul, or examine how profoundly he had considered his formulation, or pray that he could find peace through focusing on perfection in his duties.  All he thought about was working through the rest of the process so that he could give a finished product to Algornia, and then be free to frolic with his friends during the festivities that would take place throughout the city in celebration of St. Resturian’s Day.  Resturian was the patron saint of the city, and the saint of hidden surprises.
    He rose from his pallet, then sat on the edge of the padding and tried to focus his attention.  Marco had slept in his assigned pallet in the back of the alchemy shop in order to b e closer to the love philter.  It had been an unusual experience; he seldom slept on the pallet any longer.  For the past several months he had slept in the hidden room he had discovered and furnished under the pier at the wool merchants’ docks.   The small, windowless cubbyhole must have been used as a temporary storage place at some time in the past, or perhaps had been built for the use of small ships whose decks were below the level of the dock.  But no one seemed to use it or know of its existence, and Marco had happily furnished it with castoffs – a little at a time – so that he now had a tidy little room, a place all of his own.  He enjoyed going to his room in the evenings, after whatever other activity was done, and relaxing, lighting a tiny lantern so that he could relive his adventures from the day by the wavering red glow the battered oil lamp cast around the room.
    He knew there were several procedural steps he needed to carry out for the love philter early in the morning, so that he could finish the various intermediate steps he was taking in parallel to produce refined ingredients for the project.  When those steps were finished, he would have the final ingredients he would need to then combine in a precise series of further steps to finish the philter by early afternoon. 
    He rose to his feet, then stretched and yawned.  Ten steps took him from his bed to the tables where the various precursors