Free Chantress Alchemy by Amy Butler Greenfield Page B

stool. “So tell me: What’s wrong with the alchemy plan? Don’t you think it will work?”
    Nat shrugged. “Who’s to say? Isaac Oldville’s a genius, and he’s convinced he has the answers. But that doesn’t mean he’s right.” Keeping his voice down, he perched himself on the curved top of the chest. “People have been trying to make the Philosopher’s Stone for thousands of years, and as far as I can see, there’s no clear evidence that anyone ever has.”
    “Not even—oh, what was his name? Flamel?”
    “All we have is Flamel’s own word for it. And legends. And stories. But that’s not proof, no matter what Sir Isaac thinks. In the end, alchemy’s a gamble—and yet it’s all the King and Council are willing to spend money on.” He paused. “Well, that and Wrexham’s castles.”
    “You mean the fortifications that Penebrygg was talking about?”
    “Yes. Wrexham says these are perilous times, and we need to shore up the old strongholds against rebellion. Shore up his own holdings, more like,” Nat said in disgust. “Almost all the money so far has gone to his own lands. Which grow more extensive all the time.”
    “And the King allows this?” I asked.
    “Some say he’s rewarding Wrexham for putting down the Berwick rebellion,” Nat said. “And for saving his life.”
    “So Wrexham really did save him?”
    “Yes. He’s a fearless warrior, I’ll give him that. When the King’s saddle twisted beneath him in the battle, Wrexham and his men held back the attackers and dragged him to safety.”
    “So the King gives him whatever he wants, in gratitude?”
    “That might be why, yes,” Nat said. “But maybe the King feels he can’t afford to say no. Wrexham’s holdings extend from the Welsh borderlands up through the North of England; no other lord controls so much land. He has the power to split England in two.”
    I hadn’t understood before quite how powerful Wrexham was. It was sobering news.
    “Anyway, there you have it.” Nat ran a hand through his dark hair. “We’re spending every last coin in the Treasury on Wrexham’s forts and Sir Isaac’s alchemy, and there’s not a penny left for anything else.”
    “Alchemy costs a lot?”
    “I’ll say. Flamel’s ingredients cost the earth. We’ve also had to build an entirely new laboratory and an astronomical observatory, all to Sir Isaac’s demanding specifications. And, of course, we’ve had to pay for extra soldiers and guards to protect the whole place.”
    “What would you spend the money on instead?” I asked.
    “Real things. Practical things.”
    “Like . . .” I prompted.
    “Potatoes.”
    I blinked at the unexpected response. I’d heard of potatoes—a new food from America—but I’d never actually eaten them. “Why on earth . . . ?”
    “The blight,” Nat explained. “We need new crops that can resist it. When I was over in Holland, I found some European wheat varieties that might work, but I discovered that potatoes are even better—easier to plant, and a much better yield. But everyone at Court is too obsessed with alchemy to think the idea is worth pursuing. Wait till we can make gold, they keep saying.”
    “Even Penebrygg?”
    “When we talk about it, he agrees there’s some sense in what I say. But alchemy has him dazzled. I don’t see much of him these days. He’s always in Sir Isaac’s laboratory.” Nat lookeddiscouraged. “Like the rest of them, he thinks the Stone will be the end of all our troubles.”
    It was hard to know what to tell him. Perhaps his skepticism in alchemy was justified. But could he really be completely right, and everyone else completely wrong?
    I shifted on my stool. “Maybe it won’t turn out as badly as you fear,” I said. “Sir Isaac could be right, you know. If we find that crucible, maybe he’ll make so much gold we can buy whatever we want. Including your potatoes.”
    Nat put his head in his hands. “Don’t you start too.”
    “I’m not