Tincture

Zane listened to the bubble of liquid within the round flask as it boiled over the flickering flame. A steady heat brought about from a burning ball of tightly compressed dried petals that in theory was entirely smokeless and undetectable once extinguished. He hadn’t tested the latter part of that, yet. It was the first time he’d even used it, and admittedly the smell of burning petals was far more palatable than the alternatives, and the lack of smoke in his eyes made observing the simmer of the base far easier. But he still wasn’t sold on this being superior to the alternatives.
It could have simply been that he was accustomed to the crackle that a flame spell brought to the room, a warm orange glow like the setting sun. Flames could be any colour; it just depended on the compounds of the material used. He’d watched Merrin learn such a thing when deciding the easiest way to be rid of a mass of flammable objects was with fire, and lots of it. The pops of blues, greens, and yellow made for a much-needed display of joy on such a dreary night, but Zane didn’t appreciate the playful gleam it left in Merrin’s eyes.
Though whatever idea he may have had the stern words of Althalos Drax had been enough to quell scheme for the time being. Well, from doing so in the Clocktower at least.
There was something so magical about the blue the petals produced. Soft and tranquil. A soundless shimmer that still boiled the base liquid just well enough. Not enough to set it to a rolling boil, but enough to simmer and push the gas into the condenser. An arduous process to some, especially Madame Rosevin.
She had no patience for the menial tasks in alchemy, and she had enough money that she could bypass every single one with the clink of gold.
Gathering the ingredients was one thing that Zane had never seen her do. It was a task she would pay a traveller to do, a peasant with nothing else going on that day, a child in need of pocket change, an apprentice she needed to keep busy lest he ask for more exciting jobs. He didn’t hate gathering ingredients, most of them were a simple trip out of the town’s walls to search the moorlands. For the more difficult ingredients it meant a trip to the merchant quarter with gold that wasn’t his and a casual drop of a name.
He saved the worst of it for Merrin, so keen to disappear into the forest or slip a couple of the more expensive goods right into his pocket from the shipping crates. It didn’t hurt that that it meant they could keep the gold Madame Rosevin gave him for it for themselves, a small treat for everything she made him do. She wouldn’t miss it; she didn’t miss anything else Zane had managed to slip past her. A few ingredients here and there that he didn’t want to trek across town to get.
Zane had curated his own stash of goods up in his loft study, right above the shop where everything was. Over time he’d gathered enough alchemical equipment to have a second laboratory, one where he could do the experiments Merrin wouldn’t allow back in the Clocktower. Nothing dangerous. Not here at least.
Madame Rosevin had a special collection of runes and sigils dotted about to absorb excessive magic. A precaution for any less-than-ideal outcomes.
There had only been one time where it had been Zane who had set it off. Back when she was only just allowing him to actually weight and mix the ingredients. It wasn’t his fault that the powdered callus root was far stronger than the merchant had specified.
Luckily, it wasn’t anything dangerous; just a simple burn remedy for one of the cooks in the Guildhall. All that really happened was a significant fizzing and enough fumes to make Zane dizzy, but it was enough to kick the runes beneath the desk into a protective ward.
Madame Rosevin hadn’t been too pleased about having to replace the rune afterwards, and she’d sent Zane out to get more of the imbued chalk from Calethor—a punishment in of itself with the amount that man talked. He’d been lectured about double-checking the ingredients from her and lectured about some new blue-spotted fur bedrolls that were incredibly hard to come by from Calethor.
Merrin had ten of the pelts sat in the storeroom that he hadn’t taken into town yet, not that Calethor needed to know.
Blue seemed to be popular these days. Zane may not have known much about fashion or trends, but being in the western half of town so often meant that it was impossible to miss the conversations, the gossip, the hushed laughter. The apothecary was just opposite one of the tearooms, nestled in between the book shop and the ladies’ cobblers. He’d often find himself in there in the midweek, asking to collect Madame Rosevin’s order despite not knowing what it actually consisted of. They knew, though.
The tearoom was never empty; there was always a group of women having tea and cakes—the small kinds that often looked better than they tasted—gossiping over this and that. The hems of their dresses were always immaculate, never to have brushed the ashen streets of the east.
Red was the popular colour last season; it matched with the late autumn leaves and paired well with the dark brown boots of their winter wear. But now the sky was dim and drab, red stood out a little too much, more akin to blood on slate than leaves on trees. Blue was neutral, a soft winter glacier or the rare blue sky. The fabric never touched the deep blues of the ocean, too close to black, too close to ash.
Maybe that was why Zane had gravitated towards the blue of the alletre petals. Dried and crushed into a powder to mix into any neutral base to bring out that luminescence. Merrin would use it for paint if Zane allowed him, and perhaps if he had any left over after his research he would. Or if he sent Merrin out to collect a whole basket full—likely taking several days on the frost-bitten plains to the south of town—he would make him a batch.
Right now, Merrin would have to wait.
Zane dripped the glowing concentrate from the burette into a test tube, swirling it around to ensure all the powder was correctly incorporated. There was only a few millilitres, enough for five or six tests against his ever-growing list of ingredients, but it would have to do for now.