Page 24 of Luthias

She gave him a skeptical look. “Why would they make something to turn skin red?”

“’Twas meant for sheep, so ’twould dye their fleece before shearing.” Darach rolled his eyes. “Or so the sages claimed. Ever do they attempt such potions, and no’ always with success. The laird told them to cease their efforts, and the shearers returned to soaking the fleeces with madder root to dye them red.”

Master Sage Duine looked up from a text he was studying when they entered the enclave’s large scriptorium. “Welcome, Mistress, Chieftain. How may we serve?”

“I asked Darach if I could visit you and the other sages.” She bobbed a curtsey that was only a little wobbly. “The laird mentioned that you do very important work here.” That was a bit of a stretch, but she hoped it would score her some points with the older man.

“Indeed, we’ve served the MacRoss since the founding of the clan.” Duine closed his book, smiling as he came around the desk. “Leave the lady with me, Chieftain, and I shall show her some of our humble efforts.”

“My thanks, Master.” Darach leaned close and murmured to Emery, “Remember what I said, and dinnae touch anything shiny, either.”

“I’m not four years old,” she muttered back, and then beamed at the sage. “Can we start in the laboratory?”

The sages’ laboratorium turned out to be located at the very end of the enclave’s corridor, and for good reason, Duine explained.

“The work we do requires use of a powerful furnace, and at times our elixirs must roil and cure for days,” he said as he escorted her down the passage. “While ’tis never been a fire at Dun Lasair anywhere but in the hearths and braziers, we take care to assure we shall never spread one.”

“Good idea.” Emery watched him insert a key in the big door and frowned. “Why do you keep it locked up, though?” Then she saw what was inside and gasped. “Oh. Never mind.”

Inside the huge room an enormous hearth occupied the back wall, and the light from its huge blaze scattered over what appeared to be a king’s treasure room. Mounds of crystals and gemstones in every color glittered from where they had been heaped in huge bronze urns, and lay scattered over work tables. Beside them large ingots of gold and silver had been stacked by the dozens. At different benches young sages worked to cut and polish the beautiful stones, while others measured and sorted them.

“It’s like Aladdin’s cave,” Emery said, trying to take it all in.

“Forgive me, but I dinnae ken Aladdin. ’Twas Prince Ross taught the first enclave the secrets of Fae alchemy,” Duine told her as he stopped in front of a rack of small crystal flasks in which sparkling liquid was being dripped from copper distillation tubes. “We’ve carried on their work, and seek to find new methods with which we may treat illness, restore vigor and ease pain. Here the lads are finishing an elixir distilled from gold and sunstone crystal. Rubbed into the skin, it helps our elderly vassals by easing pain from arthetica in their joints and bones.”

“Arthetica.” Emery leaned close to the flasks to see the tiny flecks of gold and red suspended in the orange liquid. “I think that’s what we call arthritis in my time. How can crystals and metal help alleviate pain?”

“’Tis a blend of mortal alchemy and Fae magic,” Duine told her. “All stones possess some power that needs only be awakened and then harnessed by suspension. Prince Ross taught the first enclave those secrets.”

She straightened and regarded him. “I’m guessing that’s all you’re going to tell me about them, too.”

“Only those born to our order may ken our methods.” He glanced down. “How did you bruise the back of your hand?”

“I tried to pick up Camdyn’s heaviest hammer. That’s the definition of a big mistake, by the way.” She lifted her hand and flexed it. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“May I?” When she nodded, Duine took a small vial from one of the racks and poured a sparkling drop directly onto the bruise. It sank into her skin at once, leaving just a small shiny patch on her skin. “Do you yet feel pain?”

“Oh, it’s really not...sore at all.” Emery frowned and flexed her fingers. “How did you do that?”

Duine chuckled. “If I told you, I’d be obliged to make you a sage.” As several of the young men in the room stared eagerly at her, he scowled at them and added, “Which I cannae, as we dinnae permit ladies to take vows and join the order.”

“Only guys can be sages, huh?” Emery sighed. “Oh, well. There goes another job opportunity out the window.” She rubbed her thumb over the bruise, which even appeared a little lighter now. “Do all of your elixirs work that fast?”

“No, Mistress. Some may take an hour, others a week,” the sage admitted. “For our efforts we dinnae always succeed. The quality of the crystal, the potency of the distillation, and many other happenings affect the result.”

She glanced at the urns. “Where do you get all these stones?” When she saw Duine’s expression she chuckled. “I know. If you tell me, you have to kill me.”

“Oh, we sages vow never to take life.” He leaned closer and murmured, “But if you ken, I’d have to wed you to one of the lads.”

From there the master sage showed her the rooms where the apprentices took classes from the older sages, and the various storage rooms. Finished elixirs were kept in carefully segregated shelves in what felt like the coldest, darkest room in the castle.

“Light and heat may affect the blends and suspensions,” Duine told her as he took down a stone pot and removed the lid. “The farrier uses our salve here to heal ulcerations from stones caught in hooves before shoeing, but ’twill grow solid if kept in the sun too long.”

The contents looked like sparkling brown and blue jelly. “So most of what you make is for medicinal purposes?”

“Much we do, aye, but our elixirs do good in other ways.” He gestured toward some flat boxes. “We soaked these stones in a potion that renders tainted water clean, for travelers who must partake from rivers and lochs they dinnae ken. They’ve but to add one to a cup, and any water added, ’tis made safe to drink.” He then picked up what appeared to be a long, somewhat crooked walking stick and handed it to Emery. “A branch from a tree watered with a stone-turning elixir. No matter the weight borne, ’twill never break.”

She saw another door at the end of the room that had a complicated-looking lock instead of a latch. “What’s in there?”