Chapter Text
Vincenza Silvestri knew this forest like the back of her hand—her right hand, specifically, the one she used to test new compounds that she didn't expect to do permanent damage. Sure, there were some reagents she could only find in the markets of Fior mes Ivèrno and probably always would be, but an alchemist who relied solely on imports was a poor one in both skill and finance. And what a waste, to live at the edge of this wild tangle of ecosystems and not explore what it had to offer.
Today she wasn't here to forage, however, though if she saw something useful she certainly wouldn't hesitate to pick it up. Today she was hunting something. She wasn't sure what, exactly—at first she'd dismissed it as an animal, a large herbivore maybe, still young and clumsy in the dense foliage. Then a few days ago she'd caught a glimpse of it before it disappeared into the trees, the vaguest impression of an upright posture, an almost-human shape. Some kind of wilder? Whatever it was, she'd been hearing it crashing around in the woods near her house for a couple of weeks now, and her appreciation for the Wildwoods came with a healthy dose of caution. If something new and unknown had decided to stake out a territory here, it was critical that she learn what it was and whether she need defend herself against it. And while wildlife wasn't her specialty, if she described something completely new to science, she certainly wouldn't turn down the accolades that came with it.
She was, at least, pretty sure about the herbivore thing. It had left her small game snares alone so far. That didn't make it safe, but it eliminated one possible danger. And it told her the creature wasn't hanging around because she was providing it with easy prey.
Vincenza was not a tracker per se, but the creature did not move subtly through the forest. It was simple enough to follow its path without being seen. Not that she was doing that either at the moment—she had spent a fair bit of yesterday retracing its steps and found that it seemed to be circling a particular area, maybe marking its territory, just as she'd feared. Well, not feared. Theorized, with a modicum of concern.
Once she'd gotten far enough from the house, it took her around twenty minutes to pick up the trail again and determine which direction the creature would be coming from. Now she stalked through the undergrowth to one side of its path, waiting to intercept it going the other way.
Any minute now. She'd timed her departure precisely, to ensure the shortest possible time spent hunched over in the bushes. Yes, there—the telltale rustle of approaching feet. She rested a hand on her knife, just in case, and stepped around a tree.
Right in front of a figure that stumbled back from her but, fortunately, did not flee. She hadn't come up with a backup plan should her quarry choose to bolt.
For a moment she thought he was a wilder, albeit of a kind she'd never heard of before—his proportions were slightly wrong, something prey-animal about the limbs, and then of course there were the ears and the horns and the green skin and the orange-yellow eyes that were fixed on her face in what was probably fear, if the rest of his expression was anything to go on.
But no. He was wearing a gambeson that looked like it had been dug out of a trash heap and ineffectually scrubbed, but it fit him, and the bow he carried was indisputably of professional make. Whatever else he was, he was kith.
"Oh," she said. She was aware she was staring, and she had a vague sense that she ought to be more respectful than that. There were no godlike in Fior and she had never met any growing up in Spirento, but she'd read things about them. Reverence did not come naturally to her—what kind of Fiorian would she be if it did? She'd have to try for polite and adjust as necessary. "My apologies, I've never met one of Galawain's children before."
"My father's name is Sigmar," he said, with the weary air of one correcting a common misconception.
"Oh," Vincenza said again. Now that he'd spoken she realized he was a fucking kid, that uncertain wobble of pitch that meant he couldn't be any older than she'd been when her family had first arrived here. He was shorter than her, but she hadn't thought anything of that on its own; it was true of most men she knew. What was some kid doing wandering around in the woods near her house? Someone must be looking for him. He was a fucking godlike.
For that matter, where had he come from? There were settlements other than Fior in the Emerald Stair, but they were small and far from here. And she'd expect anyone coming all that way to travel to the city, not the woods around her house.
It would have been nice of him to give her some clue as to what he wanted, or what she ought to be doing. If she'd found a child wandering in the woods she would have gotten them back to their parents as quickly as possible, for the sake of everyone involved, but that assumed someone too young to wield a weapon. And he must know how to use that bow. He didn't look like he was starving.
He was staring at her. Like he was waiting for her to do something.
"Are you…lost?" she tried.
He appeared to think about this. "No," he said. "We're in the northern Wildwoods, right? Near the lake. I don't have a great map, but it has the big landmarks."
"You have to know that's not what I meant."
His ears went back, like an animal's. "I'm not going back," he said, with sudden urgency. "I'll leave if you want me to, but you can't make me go back."
He looked like he was about to run, now, and if he did that then Vincenza would never get answers to any of her questions. She held up her hands in what she hoped was a conciliatory gesture. "All right! I'm not here to make you go anywhere, aimico. I just want to know why you're lurking outside my house all the time."
"There's better hunting right around here," he said. "The animals smell your trash heap and come looking."
"I'm surprised you don't scare them all away again, all the noise you make." There went politeness. But he didn't seem to care very much whether she was respectful or not. She shouldn't be surprised, really, that a handful of second- and third-hand stories about the godlike hadn't left her with any useful knowledge, but she was trying to work with what she had.
"I get by." Despite her best efforts—or her acceptable efforts, anyway—he didn't look any less afraid than he had at the start. "I'll be out of here in a couple of days, I promise. I just—" He bit down hard on the rest of the sentence.
"You just?" She raised her eyebrows.
Why didn't he run away, when he so clearly wanted to? He might be able to outrun her, and while she would undoubtedly find a way to catch up to him again, if she wanted, he didn't know that. But this was a question he definitely wouldn't answer. She set the thought aside.
"I…just…" For the first time he looked away from her face, turning his head to face deeper into the woods. He grimaced. "I wanted to rest for a little while. It's been a hard journey and I found a spot where things were easier."
Strange thing to be so cagey about. "Why did you leave my traps alone, then?"
"I'm not a thief."
He sounded so shocked that she laughed. She couldn't help it. To her surprise it seemed to make him relax a few degrees, when nothing else she'd done had made a dent.
"Where are you going, anyway? Fior?" She was still trying to plot out his route. He hadn't said where he came from, but there were only so many paths to the city that took you through the Wildwoods. Another valley to the north of here, maybe?
But he shuddered and shook his head. "Too many people there. And I don't have any money."
"Where, then?" It was hard to imagine someone coming all this way not to go to Fior, but there were all kinds of people in the world, she supposed.
"I don't know. I didn't have a plan, I was just trying to get away."
"Away from what?"
"People who don't understand that I can't be what they want me to be." His ears drooped apologetically, or at least that was how it looked to her.
It wasn't an answer, but she let it drop for the moment. Best not to alienate him again now that she'd apparently put him at ease. She was beginning to form an idea.
She looked him over again, considering. Not starving, but he'd definitely been out in the wilds for a while. Amazing that he'd survived so long with the clumsy way he moved through the forest, though it was possible he'd just gotten complacent here, with prey so much easier to come by. Either way, subtlety could be taught should the need arise.
He must already know what was and wasn't safe to eat out here, and if he'd sustained any injuries on his journey then he must also know the basics of how to treat them, because he didn't hold himself like someone sick or in pain. In other words, he already had the skills she'd taught herself out of necessity rather than personal interest, and therefore had less than no desire to teach to anyone else.
Vincenza Silvestri was an alchemist of both skill and talent, and the people of Fior mes Ivèrno and its surroundings knew this well. It was part of the reason she'd moved out of the city a few years ago. What had begun as a small venture intended to fund the research she spent most of her time on had become, as Fior's population grew and its reputation became more established, a never-ending stream of orders for potions and salves and balms that kept her so busy she could barely think some days. It was nice to be appreciated, and people did have to get these things from somewhere. But she was never going to make any progress on unlocking the secrets of the universe if she had to pay so much attention to matters of business.
Putting some distance between herself and her customers had helped, and she'd started to set limits on how often she opened her doors to them, because even if she had wanted to dedicate her life to potionmaking, there were only so many hours in the day. What she really wanted, though, was to do as little of the busywork as she could get away with. For months now she'd been doing calculations, trying to decide how much she could cut back without obliterating her reagent budget.
She'd complained to her parents, who suggested taking on an apprentice. There were a few children of the right age in Fior, now, though many of them were already slated to train in their parents' professions. In order to entice anyone to come work for her instead, she'd almost certainly have to involve them in her research as well as the more boring tasks she was trying to offload, which would defeat the purpose of bringing them on. And anyway, an apprenticeship was a contract. If she was unlucky and her chosen apprentice was more hindrance than help, she'd have to go to lengths to end their arrangement. She might well end up worse off than she was now.
The kid was shifting from foot to foot like he was thinking of running again, so she said, "Listen—what's your name?"
"Gavroth."
Not a name she'd ever heard before. Or that provided any additional clues as to where he'd come from. Ah, well, they could return to that puzzle later.
"Well, Gavroth," she said. "I won't stop you from leaving if that's really what you want to do, but you're not causing me any trouble. In fact, we might be able to help each other."
He tensed. "What do you mean? Help each other how?"
"For a start," Vincenza said, "you're welcome to keep sleeping in the woods if you like, but I can offer you room and board. We're coming up on the rainy season—you probably know. You won't want to be out here when the first storm hits."
"Sure," he said, sounding uncertain. His brows knit in evident concern.
"As to what you can do for me…" She smiled, although it didn't seem to help. "Have you ever considered trying your hand at alchemy?"
"Alchemy?" He blinked rapidly. "Why would you think I'd be good at that?"
"I don't," she said. "We just met. I don't think anything about you. But if you know how to survive in the Emerald Stair, then you're resourceful and knowledgeable enough to be of some use to me. The rest, we'll see how it goes, ne?" It wouldn't take long to teach him the basics, and if he turned out to be so awful at it that she couldn't risk inflicting him on her customers—well, she'd think of somewhere to send him other than the city, since it seemed to worry him so much. She wasn't the only person who'd wanted to get out of Fior once things started getting busier there. Somebody would have an idea of what to do with him, she was sure.
Gavroth was scrutinizing her with such intensity that she started to wonder if there was a beetle crawling around on her face. "That's it?" he said. "You don't think I'd have some kind of affinity for it or anything. Just that I could learn it."
Some of her wariness about talking to a godlike came back. "Do you think you'd have an affinity for it?" she said carefully.
"Gods, no." He sounded strangely relieved.
"All right, then." It seemed likely that she'd get another non-answer if she pressed any further on that, so she'd leave it for another time. If there was another time. She was suddenly, unaccountably anxious that he'd turn her down, and the best chance she had at getting back to the work that really mattered was about to slip through her fingers. "What do you say?"
He frowned thoughtfully. "You asked for my name, but you didn't tell me yours."
"Vincenza Silvestri, at your service," she said, although by now it was clear that he had no reason to be familiar. "Enza, to my friends."
"All right, Vincenza." He met her eyes with deliberation. "We'll see how it goes."
"Belfetto!" She clapped her hands together. All these months she'd been wrestling with her finances, her schedule, trying to make the impossible work, and here the perfect solution had practically dropped into her lap. What a relief, for something to come easily for once.
It wasn't quite so easy as that, of course. First came simple logistics—this house hadn't been built with more than one occupant in mind, and it took the better part of the afternoon to clear out sufficient space in the attic. The kid hadn't brought much with him, but Vincenza had gotten into the habit of putting things up there when she didn't want to deal with them, and there were a lot of things she didn't want to deal with.
Then there were the unforeseen expenses. She hadn't considered the fact that even the most apt student would waste a certain amount of material in the process of learning the basics. Someone who was going to handle her customers would need more presentable clothes than Gavroth possessed, and his boots were in terrible repair. A few weeks into their arrangement she learned, entirely by accident, that he needed eyeglasses to read without a horrible squint, forcing her to bring him into the city to have some made.
"Di verus, were you never going to say anything?"
"I didn't expect you to do anything about it if I did."
He'd said it as if she was the one who'd done something strange, and, not knowing what she was supposed to do with that, she'd let the subject drop.
Actually taking the kid into the city had been an ordeal she didn't care to repeat any time soon. She had expected him to be reluctant, given his reaction when she'd suggested he was going there, but he hadn't made a fuss. His ears had twitched in obvious discomfort as he agreed that it was necessary, that was all. He'd even made decent conversation on the way. Once they got inside the walls, though, he got that scared-animal look, like he might bolt at any second. He kept whipping his head around at every sound, flinching away from people who got too close to him—not that Vincenza could blame him for that, the way people kept "casually" wandering over to stare. She scoffed at them, waved them away. Postenagos. She'd been surprised at first too, but she'd gotten over it. There was no reason anyone else shouldn't do the same.
The optician had been sensible, at least, or else too focused on the task at hand to make a nuisance of himself, but he was the only such person they ran into all day. The walk back to Vincenza's house had been completely silent, and when they arrived the kid vanished into the attic and didn't reappear until morning. When the time came she went back into the city to retrieve the glasses on her own.
Still, he picked up the skills she needed relatively quickly, and while he asked a number of stupid questions he also asked a decent share of smart ones. His recordkeeping was very legible, once he could see what he was doing. They shared some concern about how he would fare taking orders, given the way the trip into Fior had gone, but people seemed less inclined to gawk when it might offend the person who stood between them and their potions. Or that was the working theory the two of them had arrived at. Whatever the reason, only a few weeks passed before Vincenza began to see some return on her investment, in the form of several uninterrupted hours to investigate the properties of a rare blackwood sample she'd recently acquired. She had yet to draw any useful conclusions, but the thrill of the chase, the sense that she was beginning to creep up on something new, was enough for the moment. If things continued to go this well she'd have no need to rush.
"So that's it, then?" Anselma was half draped across the counter, tracing a pattern in a pile of spilled herbs. "Just business? Because Monto made it sound like you were seized with some religious mania."
"Monto should be more careful what he says if he wants me to keep selling him adra." Vincenza shut the drawer she'd been organizing with more force than she meant. There was an ominous tinkle of glass from its contents, and she winced, but she wasn't about to open it up again to check, not with Anselma still here. Even if she didn't seem to be paying much attention to what Vincenza was doing at the moment.
"I notice you don't answer the question."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Anselma." She pulled out the register of reagents and began leafing through it. There'd be traders from Rauatai coming into port soon, if the usual seasonal cycles held, and she ought to take stock of what she might need from them ahead of time. She always had a sense of what she did and didn't have on hand, but it never hurt to double check. "Do you see a shrine anywhere? Is my house suddenly full of skulls and arrows? I found a willing apprentice. It's no more to do with the gods than anything else that happens."
"And how much is that?" A teasing tone had come into Anselma's voice, and she continued too quickly to leave room for a reply. "Come on, Enza, I'm not serious. Devote yourself to Galawain? You've got better taste than that."
"Is that what you said to Monto?"
In fact Vincenza did pay her respects to Galawain, when they were due, which was inevitable when she lived so far from the city and spent so much time creeping around in the underbrush looking for materials. Or food, though recently she left hunting in Gavroth's hands most of the time, since he was handier with a bow. (She'd asked him once if he thought this had anything to do with his divine parentage. He'd said "Probably not," in what she was coming to recognize as his polite voice, and walked out of the room.)
That didn't make her devoted by any means—she offered up a prayer to the relevant god whenever circumstances called for it, like anyone else. But that distinction wasn't really the point. She'd made the decision years ago to commit herself to a science older and grubbier than the high-minded work of animancers, as she couldn't help being reminded every time she ventured inside Fior's walls. Any association with such a wild, uncivilized god as Galawain would only cement their perception that she was beneath them. And no one was ever convinced of anything by argument alone unless they already wanted to believe it.
"I didn't say anything to him," Anselma said. "I was in the middle of calibrating an essence conductor, I could barely spare the attention to listen and he'd walked away by the time I was done. But look, anyone sensible knows better already. I just thought you should know what the…less sensible might have to say."
"They can say whatever they want when I'm not there to hear it. Doesn't affect me unless someone insists on coming out here to tell me about it." Vincenza snapped the register shut and looked her friend in the face. "So why are we talking about this? Really."
Anselma was not normally one to hesitate, but she hesitated now, her finger in the pile of herbs jerking to a halt and making a mess of her pattern. "Well, you know, whatever it is you're doing with this godlike, it's only just started." She waved a hand vaguely. "If you change course now you won't have wasted too much time."
"Change course? What, I shouldn't take on an apprentice because some—some idiots at your workshop think it means something it doesn't?" Technically her arrangement with the kid wasn't a formal apprenticeship, but it amounted to the same thing. "They'll figure it out soon enough."
"It's not that," Anselma said, as if she wasn't the one refusing to get to the point. "But I wish you'd told me you were looking for an apprentice, Vincenza. I could have made some recommendations, maybe talked to some people—nothing wrong with alchemy, of course, but it needs to be framed the right way if you want anyone to get excited about it when animancy's right there. And I can still do all of that! It's a little more complicated now, with…" She nodded toward the closed door behind the counter that separated the shop from the rest of the house. "Your houseguest. But it's nothing we can't handle."
"I'm still not hearing a reason for throwing away all the time I spent on training and starting over from scratch with someone else."
"You need to hear it in words? Fine. I'm thinking about your reputation. Not about the gods, that's nonsense, it will pass. But if you want the other animancers' respect, if you want them to think of you as a real scientist, on our level, then you have to do some work to make connections with them! Show them you value their opinions, something. What better way to do that than to bring one of their children into your field?" Anselma spread her hands as if all this should be self-evident. "And someone who's picked up a little bit of animancy already could be good for your research as well. You have a lot to gain."
"I don't need their respect," Vincenza said flatly. At some point she'd pulled the register of reagents against her chest, like a shield. "I know my worth. And so do they, when they need something from me. If they pretend otherwise when they don't, why should I care?"
"Right," Anselma said. "You don't care. That's why you moved all the way out here, where you can't overhear anyone as they pass you in the street, because you're not bothered by what they might say about you. Vincenza—"
She wished Anselma would stop saying her name like that. "I moved out here because I was overwhelmed with customers. Because I do good work and everyone knows it, whatever they might say."
"And that was the only reason, was it?" Anselma scowled. "I'm not disagreeing with you, all right? Everyone does know how good you are! It's just they think of how much progress we might be making if you'd turned that skill to animancy instead, and they're disappointed you chose differently. No one would feel that way if you weren't a competent scientist."
"No? What was all that about being a real scientist, then?"
"Well, you know." She deflated a bit. "It's not that alchemy isn't a real science. But it's not the future, is it? Not like animancy."
"That's what you think," Vincenza said. "Maybe what everyone in Fior thinks. That doesn't make it the truth." She hated how defensive she sounded, how petulant, as if she'd run out of proper arguments and was just saying she was right for the sake of it.
She was right. That the animancers, forced to justify themselves to authority long before she'd ever arrived on this shore, had in turn become so shortsighted they could only see one way forward—it wasn't her fault, and it wasn't fair for them to dismiss her this way. But she couldn't say these things, and it was a waste of time to think them. They were the words of a child who didn't yet understand the working of the world.
"Listen," she said, before Anselma could speak again. "I know you want to help, and I appreciate it. Really. But I don't want to curry favor with people that way—I want my work to stand on its own. If they're going to decide to respect me, it has to be for something real, do you understand?"
"I understand wanting your work to be what matters," Anselma said. "But why you would choose a harder road on purpose, that makes less sense to me."
"I know."
"You don't have to say it like that!" Anselma laughed. Then, turning serious again, she said, "If this is really how you want to do things, so be it. I don't want to fight with you. I just thought I would make sure you know there are other options, all right? And I'm here if you ever want to take advantage of them. Well, not here, it's a wonder you haven't been eaten by beasts living in this forest. But you know where to find me."
"I won't forget," Vincenza said, and it was true, even if it was equally true that she'd never act on it. The intention was more valuable to her than the offer itself. "But think—I've already spent all this money on the ingredients wasted in training. I can't do it all over again just like that."
"Persuasive." Anselma smiled. "We'll come back to it another time, then. Only if you want to! And now you must catch me up on what you've been doing with all this spare time you have to do research in. I know it's early, but you must have a direction in mind!"
"Only if you tell me about what you were working on that was so important you couldn't defend my honor to Monto."
"Oh, of course."
Later, when Anselma had left, when Vincenza had cleaned up the herbs and checked the drawer to make sure nothing in it had broken and put the register away, she considered her friend's advice. Not the part about making connections with animancers who didn't respect her—aside from how distasteful she found it, Anselma's estimation of how successful a strategy this would make was, at best, overly optimistic.
But it was undeniable that she would benefit from an outside perspective on her work. Before she'd become too overwhelmed with ointments to focus on her research, she'd benefited greatly from discussing her experiments with Anselma, and with those among the other animancers whose interests hewed more closely to her own concerns. It had meant learning more about agriculture than she'd ever cared to know, but it had also meant new insights she would never have arrived at on her own. She had always believed collaboration was a critical part of science. It was one of the reasons she'd stayed in the city so long.
Gavroth was not a useful collaborator. Not yet. But there were those intelligent questions he came out with from time to time, and he was competent enough at the physical tasks. She was not about to formalize the apprenticeship by any means—sure, things had been smooth for a few weeks, but that wasn't nearly enough to be certain this would work out in the long term, and she needed to be able to weasel her way out of the arrangement.
If everything continued to progress in the manner it had so far, however…well, she'd consider involving him in some of her research. The less delicate parts. Possibly. She would have to wait and see.