Free The Alchemist's Apprentice by Dave Duncan

Basilica of San Marco. That the house included living quarters and premises grand enough to entertain thirty guests I took on trust from the Maestro’s account. It is an expensive part of town, so either Imer had family money behind him or he was successful professionally. So why was he dabbling in the used book trade?
    The black-clad clerk who peered disapprovingly at me over his glasses looked somewhat dusty and dog-eared himself, as if he needed to be taken down off his shelf more often. He conceded that the learned attorney was in, but that was all he would concede. If I wanted to get any closer to his employer, he suggested, I must state my business in some detail. The learned attorney was not, he implied, about to stop doing whatever he was doing to oblige a mere apprentice, even if, he hinted, the apprentice’s master was a well-known charlatan dabbling in shady arts. I could make an appointment for next week, or Lent, or next summer, he intimated.
    Attorneys do not usually turn down business sight unseen, but attorneys rarely have important nobles collapse at their supper tables in a hiss of dangerous whispers. Was Imer hiding from everyone or just from anyone connected with that unfortunate event?
    I shrugged. “Then I must take the matter higher up.”
    The watchdog’s manner grew even chillier. “Take it as high as you wish.”
    I produced my letter and held it where he could read the inscription. “Is this high enough?”
    He had seemed pale before. He turned ashen and stumbled to his feet.
    â€œRun,” I said sweetly, and he very nearly did.
    In moments I was ushered into the private office of Attorney Imer, which was dim, cramped, and untidy. The owner stood beside a desk heaped with ribbon-tied bundles of paper. Briefs seldom are. He was tall, severe, fortyish, and had an unfortunate tick at the left corner of his mouth. I wondered if it appeared when he addressed the bench, or if only mention of the Ten set it off.
    I bowed. “At the lustrissimo ’s service.”
    â€œMy clerk said you had a letter to show me?”
    He did not invite me to sit, so I sat. He remained standing, eyes icy, mouth twitching. He looked down his chin at me. Lawyers are very highly thought of in Venice, especially by other lawyers.
    I said, “My master was the first physician to attend Procurator Orseolo when he was stricken, two nights ago. He was disturbed by the symptoms he observed—so much so that he believes it may be his duty to draw them to the attention of the Ten. He takes this step reluctantly, as you may imagine, knowing the suffering it may cause to innocent people. He is aware that there may be other explanations for what he saw, and invites you to go and discuss the matter with him.”
    Roses bloomed on the attorney’s cheeks. “Blackmail? He plans to extort money from me?”
    I have never known the Maestro to turn away money, but to say so just then would have been indiscreet. “ Lustrissimo , I would not serve a master who committed such crimes.”
    â€œYou prefer selling horoscopes?” Evidently Imer was a skeptic, like the doge. “Yes, the procurator took ill here, in my house. He died at home, I assume in his own bed. He was old. Old men do that. What is left to discuss?”
    I stood up. “Evidence of poison. I thank you for your time.” I started to turn, then had second thoughts. “Just out of personal curiosity…Is the servant who poured the wine your employee, or did you hire him for the evening?”
    â€œYou can take your personal curiosity to hell with you, boy, and keep it there.”
    â€œAnd the man with the big nose?”
    The attorney’s mouth twitched violently four times. “Let me see that letter!”
    I passed it over. It was not sealed. He twitched six times while reading it. “Extortion! If your master wants to come here and ask some questions on a professional matter, I