Free Alchemist's Apprentice by Kate Thompson

tell everything, right up to his arrival at the gate. So Jack told him about the beggar and about Nancy and the journey to Master Gregory’s house. He made a joke about the cases full of rubbish that Gregory kept, and was delighted when the alchemist laughed. What he didn’t tell, because he didn’t dare, was how close both he and Gregory had come to breaking open the precious vessel.
    When he had said all he could think of to say, Jack waited expectantly. Barnstable stared at the hearth for a while, as though pondering on something, then sighed deeply.
    â€˜That Gregory is a strange one all right,’ he said. ‘I think we are safe enough, though. If he wished me harm he could have given me away a long time ago.’
    â€˜Given you away?’
    â€˜To those who govern the land, Jack. Alchemy has been outlawed for a long time now.’
    â€˜But why?’
    Barnstable sighed again. ‘Did Master Gregory tell you what an alchemist is?’ he said.
    â€˜Yes, he did.’
    â€˜What did he tell you?’
    â€˜That they … that you make gold.’
    â€˜Yes.’ Barnstable nodded. ‘And if someone could make gold, they might turn out to be rich and powerful, mightn’t they?’
    â€˜I suppose they might, yes.’
    â€˜As powerful as the king, perhaps?’
    As the alchemist was speaking his tone become hushed and conspiratorial. His eyes shone with a fierce light, and Jack could imagine nothing more powerful on earth than what he saw in them. But before he could catch it, it was gone, replaced by humour again and kindness.
    â€˜Do you believe it, Jack?’
    â€˜Believe what?’
    â€˜That alchemists make gold?’
    Jack didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes,’ he said.
    â€˜Why?’ said Barnstable. ‘Why do you believe it?’
    â€˜Because Master Gregory told me so.’
    â€˜Then you believe everything that your elders tell you?’
    Jack thought hard. He wasn’t sure whether he did or he didn’t.
    â€˜Do you believe, for instance,’ Barnstable went on, ‘that all the boys in this parish are called Billy?’
    A red blush crept into Jack’s cheeks. ‘I did, sir, because you told me so.’
    â€˜And do you believe that alchemists can make gold?’
    Jack’s mind got stuck. The honesty that had compelled him to tell the truth seemed to have vanished from Barnstable’s eyes. They were vacant now, revealing nothing, hard and clear as ice.
    â€˜Do you or don’t you?’
    The alchemist stood up and held the pot above his head, high over the stone floor. Still Jack couldn’t answer. He had wanted to know for so long that he could hardly bear it, but still the thought of the precious vessel smashing into pieces on the floor filled him with terror.
    â€˜Well?’
    It could all have been over, then; the truth revealed on the hard flagstones of Barnstable’s floor. But Jack’s hopes might have smashed along with the vessel. The smell of rotten eggs began to invade his mind.
    â€˜Do you believe there is gold in it, Jack?’
    For one more moment Barnstable held the pot above the ground. Jack watched as his fingers relaxed their grip, and let go.
    â€˜Yes!’ he yelled, at the top of his voice, and at the same instant the alchemist, with astonishing agility, plucked the falling vessel from the air with his left hand, just inches above the ground. He smiled delightedly at Jack, as childlike as ever. ‘So do I,’ he said.
    Jack dropped his head between his knees and retched. Barnstable knelt beside him and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.
    â€˜Here,’ he said, putting the vessel on the ground between Jack’s feet. ‘It’s yours. I’m giving it to you.’
    Jack shook his head and pushed it away with a trembling hand. It was too late for that now. He knew that even if it was his, even if he believed, as he had said, that it was full of gold, he