The Alchemist's Practice Chapter 5

Edric and the priest's introduction turned thorny rather quickly. After learning his name, Rorick, they talked about the funeral ceremony. Edric listened attentively, trying to memorize all the things he needed to do, but when it came to talking about burying an empty casket for his brother, Edric objected.

Edric didn't believe his brother was dead, or he didn't want to believe it. There was no body, and so he felt there should be no ceremony. At first, Rorick was kind, trying to convince Edric that without letting his roses bloom, his brother couldn't move on to his next life.

Edric, though he wouldn't call himself devout, knew the word of Yynndal enough to be able to cite some passages in support of his viewpoint. Eventually, this angered Rorick, and he reluctantly gave in to Edric's demands, but not lightly.

"Without the seedling ceremony, your brother won't be able to rest. I hope you understand what that means," Rorick warned.

Edric, hot with his own anger, said, "I hope you understand that my brother does not require rest, nor your services, now or ever," and stormed out of the church.

In his anger, Edric didn't think to return through the back street to Nuumad's Blessing, and soon he was recognized by some of the village's older women. Before long, a group had gathered. They asked him how he was, offered the white, and made all the usual comments one would hear after a long absence in a small town.

"What's the road like from Sybold?" "Do they feed you well there? You're nothing but skin and bones." "How long're ya stayin'?" "What's Sybold like?" "Have you been to see Wynn yet?" The last question was met with some chuckles and knowing looks from a few.

Edric's mood quickly shifted with the bombardment of questions and people crowding around him. He accepted roses, answered questions, thanked people for their kindness, and let them know that the funeral would be happening tomorrow.

"You been learning to heal up there in Sybold, right?" one of the villagers asked. "Can you have a look at my back? It's itching something fierce."

Edric hadn't expected that question. He had been learning to become an alchemist, and from his time as an apprentice, he helped his master in treating many different ailments. An alchemist isn't so unlike a healer, so he was well versed in treating simple issues. Issues like rashes, boils, sore throats and other conditions from common illnesses, making potions, and a bit of simple magic, was well within his expertise.

But he still hadn't finished his apprenticeship and thus wasn't a certified alchemist under the crown. If he treated someone wrongly, and the crown's inquisitors found him out, he could be fined, or worse. Alchemy and healing were tightly regulated within the Julaein continent.

During his studies, the older boys would tell what he thought were tall tales of foreign healers not knowing our laws and being incarcerated indefinitely. He wasn't sure he wanted to test whether they were just meant to scare or not.

He realized that all those in the crowd had gone silent and were waiting on his response. Many had a look in their eyes of wanting, as though if he said the words, they too would be asking him to look at their own disorders.

Edric scratched his face. "Well, I'm not quite an alchemist yet. I'm still an apprentice."

The man with the itch shook his head. "Come now, it's just a simple rash," he said as he turned around and began to pull up his shirt in front of everyone.

The crowd of people all began laughing and shouting, and the man's wife smacked him on the back of the head before he could get his shirt completely off and expose himself to the other villagers.

Edric had a good laugh too, and the other villagers seemed to temper their expectations. The bit of laughter seemed to put a cap on the conversation, and they all let him on his way back to the inn.

When he entered, he saw Wynn sitting at one of the tables eating a meal. There were no other patrons there, now that it was well past morning and well before noon. She noticed him enter and had the look of a deer that heard you cracking a twig underfoot. It was almost as though she'd forgotten he'd arrived, or she expected him not to have been back so soon. The look faded quickly, and her usual smile replaced it.

He walked over and placed a hand on one of the chairs at the table. "May I?" he asked.

"Of course." Wynn had a mouthful of food as she talked, making Edric suppress a laugh. She eyed him queerly. "What?"

He shook his head. "Nothing," he said at first, then added, "you just haven't changed, is all."

She took a drink of water, covering a hint of red on her cheeks, and before the water had been entirely swallowed, she said, "You have."

"I suppose I am a bit taller since last we met," he said, motioning above his head.

Wynn chuckled at his comment, but when she shook her head, it made it feel like the way one friend pity's the other for a poor attempt. The response still made Edric smile at his own humour.

"Thanks for the meal this morning. I truly needed it."

"I knew you would, after last night," she said matter-of-factly as she sliced off a large piece from a sausage. "Garrick and Kennard usually don't drink that much. I imagine they're not feeling so well this morning, neither." She bit into the sausage with a hunger. It seemed that she had only just begun breaking her fast. Her work must have been demanding to force her to not eat anything until this hour.

Edric took a glass from nearby and filled it with water from Wynn's pitcher. He used the action of his motions to buy time to think of what to say. Now that they were alone, for the first time in years, he couldn't seem to find the words to say.

He'd never had any such trouble talking to her before. Not when he wasn't so tall as he was. Not when he and Wynn had nothing but carefree days together in the forest. They would talk together for hours or sometimes sit in silence together for hours, but now the silence was strained and strange. It felt like there was a distance between them then, as though the years of silence apart was a long road he had to walk before things could return to the way they were.

"You must be thirsty," Wynn said, pointing with her knife before continuing her meal.

Edric looked down at the glass that touched his lips. He hadn't even taken note of beginning to drink, so deep in thought he was, and now the glass was empty. He dropped his hand down dumbly and nearly dropped the glass on the table.

His sudden bout of stupidity seemed to jostle loose something to talk about, and he blurted out, "So, when did you begin working here?"

"Actually, I own it," she replied promptly.

"Own it?" Edric repeated back.

Wynn's aunt and uncle, who raised her, owned the inn before Edric left for Sybold. They renamed it Nuumad's Blessing after Wynn because she was born under the harvest moon. That, and though she came under their care from a tragedy, they saw her as a blessing because they could not bear children of their own.

If Wynn was the owner, then Edric could guess what that meant to her aunt and uncle. Wynn could tell that Edric was thinking it already, and so she spoke up.

"They passed two years ago," she said. She wasn't looking at Edric but instead off to the side as though she were no longer there. "Jia was first, some sickness took her, and then Allao became heartbroken and just didn't wake one day."

Edric's heart panged with the thought of Wynn's loss, and in some distant part of him, it made him feel odd that he hadn't felt the same yet for his parents. At the forefront of his mind was guilt. He'd wished he had been here for Wynn in her time of need. Now, years gone by, her distant look as she spoke of their passing told him that she was still hurting.

He felt like telling her just what he had thought: that he wished he'd been here for her. But to what end? What use would telling her that serve, what use other than self-service? He hadn't written to her, hadn't visited since he'd left. He wasn't there for her, and wishing it so did not make it so.

"Though it's a little late," he said finally, "a white rose to you, Wynn."

Wynn smiled, though her eyes were still distant, then she shook her head, and some life returned to them. "What a fool I've made myself. Sorry, Ed. I should be offering you that courtesy, not the other way."

Edric waved his hand. "I've received enough roses today. Save yours for tomorrow, and I'll gladly accept it."

Her smile at that comment was a bit more genuine. "Yynndal's blessing on you, Edric."

Edric accepted the blessing, and then a thought struck him that made him burst out into laughter. Wynn looked at him askance a moment, and he composed himself.

"You remember the time we hid under the crook bridge just past the inn? The time when we ate the pies Jia just baked for the afternoon guests?"

Wynn grinned as she remembered. "She came stomping down, and you bolted away and left me there with the half-eaten pie."

Edric laughed but shook his finger. "That's not how I remember it. First off, it was your idea to steal the pie. Second: you said to run. I was just following orders," he said.

Wynn joined in his laughter while shaking her head. She went silent for a moment, then glanced up at him. "The creek was cold that time of year. I remember the water getting in my boots, and I think I caught fever the next week."

"The thing I remember most was the whupping my dad gave me later that day. My arse was so sore I had to stand when I ate dinner that night."

Wynn let out a full laugh as she covered her mouth and had to take a drink from a slight cough. Her laugh was not a gentle, dainty laugh the high-borne in Sybold were trained to do, but a hearty farmer laugh, a genuine laugh.

After she recovered, she said, "But you know…"

"It was worth it," Edric finished, and Wynn nodded as she grinned from ear to ear. "Jia's pies were always worth it."

"They were," Wynn agreed. "You know I could make you one. She taught me how."

Edric whistled long and low. "I'm going to keep you to that promise."

The two talked for as long as Wynn could allow before she had to return to her work at the inn, and Edric felt that he had taken a few steps along that long road back to the way things had been.

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Thanks for reading The Alchemist's Practice Chapter 5. If you're enjoying it be sure to share it and give it a heart at the bottom. If you want more from me, check out www.mcleansnovels.com where you can find links to all my books.

I think dialogue is always the hardest, and also the worst aspect of my writing. But, after leaving this conversation for a day I think I did fairly well. I hope you feel the same.

Happy reading!