“An impressive recommendation … in many ways,” I said.
Lorenz bowed slightly.
“What do you ask in return for your help, Lorenz? Or should I call you Philosopher Luarne?” I had pronounced it, for some reason, as though it were French.
“Actually, it’s loo-ARN-uh,” he said, German style. “Or you could call me Herr Waffenmeister, I suppose. But Lorenz is fine.
“And I ask two things, Baron,” he said, resuming his peddler’s manner. “First, my pick of the Dragon’s treasure … before you even get to see it. Second, access to your fine herb cellar.”
“My herb cellar?”
Lorenz smiled. “You may not know it, Baron, but your skill as an acquirer of fine herbs and spices is well known! I wish to sample some of your finds.”
“So you are asking that you may haul away all the Dragon’s treasure, and empty my herb cellars? … Do you want my women, too?”
“Oh … did I forget to mention the women?” grinned Lorenz. “Of course I don’t!”
“And what do you offer in return?”
“I will fill these quarrels—I have more—with a substance appropriate to the task you require of them. And I will be one of your crossbowmen.”
I took my time thinking about that. The arrangement appeared straightforward enough. He was offering his services and willing to stand behind them in a most literal sense. What he asked was probably expensive in some way I could not know; who can tell what one will pull out of a long undisturbed Dragon’s cache? My herb cellars were fine, indeed, but I was not miserly about them—there was no weighing the lives of three fine ladies against a collection of dried up plants.
The question was: How did he happen along at just this moment, with a letter from a man I highly respected, written years before that man even knew me? As I reflected back on my days with Professor Bernini, I realized that there was always a little extra fire in our relationship, and I suddenly remembered his final words to me after our courses ended: “There is a great surprise coming in your future. There will be many surprises, of course, but there will be one that involves your memory of me. All I can tell you about it now is: Trust the messenger.”
Whatever was coming, this Gnomish person had been preparing for it a long time, and he had uncanny insight. This combination of traits is rare among those who are of Chaotic nature, and Nestore Bernini would not tolerate someone of Evil nature.
His name had changed, not necessarily a bad sign, but not usually instilling confidence. He might not be the same person my teacher had known; but then, giving the same name would have proved nothing, either. And my teacher titled this being, and himself, with “Philosopher”! That remained a mystery, but a mystery that did not concern me then. I had made a choice.
“I agree to your terms, weapon master.”
The Gnome grinned. “You have no wish to negotiate … check facts?”
“The facts you have brought with you are sufficient, and clearly the general wealth of this Dragon’s lair is not what brings either you, or me, here. I am ready to work with you, Lorenz.”
“Excellent! We will begin tomorrow. I will require access to that fine herb cellar of yours, and we can begin right after breakfast here.”
“The laboratory is in Falcon’s Aerie,” I told him. “You ladies should stay here. Grigor may do as he pleases.”
“I generally do,” said my chief investigator.
* * *
I led the Gnome to the laboratory under Falcon’s Aerie from which the herb cellar is accessed; an herb cellar without a laboratory is about as useful as flowers growing in a meadow. I should acknowledge that the cellar was not my work alone. I corresponded with other herbalists. Dragana Jankov and her students were of particular help, harvesting not only in the Kalzov Valley but some more exotic places.
Two of my servants accompanied me, as they always did. Three steps into the laboratory, Lorenz stopped, raised his arms, and yelled, “Apron!” The servants balked. They were not used to Gnomes, nor to strangers giving orders in my working space.
Lorenz turned to me. “Baron?”
I signed for them to do as my guest asked. They apparently found an apron of our smallest kitchen maid’s, because it fit him well, and they also brought my own usual apron.
Lorenz smiled as he donned his. “Excellent! First, I must do some … ah … equipment calibration.” And he scurried through the laboratory into the herb cellar itself.
All my work spaces are well organized, but even so the little Gnome was fast! Before I could take three steps he scurried out again with a handful of three fine-smelling plants. He dashed to the work bench, ground them together while muttering an incantation, and put the mixture into an alembic along with some rosewater. I recognized the plants. He was making Alorretta, a general-purpose euphoric potion. The process looks perfectly simple, but it is considered advanced alchemy because such a wide range of results are possible. It can come out as anything from a mildly toxic, stinking black goo to a sparkling lemon-yellow fluid that will fill a house with good feelings for a day.
In just minutes, I saw a distillate coming out, not yellow but light blue, and the fragrance was decidedly heady!
“My compliments, Baron! You keep a fine laboratory here.”
“How did you do that?” I asked with childlike amazement. Untasted, his potion was already making me happy and calm.
“Oh, I’ve learned a few things over the years. This arrangement we have made will not be all give and no take on either side.” He gave me a wink and scurried back into the herb cellar.
* * *
That night Lorenz, the ladies, and I had a wild party back at the workshop. His “equipment calibration” had produced an array of the most creative intoxicants I have ever encountered. It made me remember how I and my friends felt when as young boys we shared some adult’s forgotten half bottle of Old Vesuvius, but this time there was no downside afterwards.
We laughed, we sang, we danced, we stripped down naked and ran around unrestrained, we massaged, we cuddled, we kissed, we moaned in sensual pleasure. I was throwing ladies on the bed, Adrijana was throwing Lorenz on the bed … and he was such a monkey! He would climb around on everything—furniture, fixtures, ladies, me. Nobody seemed to notice or mind that, viewed as a man, the Gnome was grotesque and ugly. That night he was simply male (even I noticed and admired his maleness while being repelled by his buck naked Gnomishness) and that was that.
Despite how much more intemperate we became than before, the one thing we did not do was to make love. Even stranger, that began to seem an oddity only the next morning, after our very late rising.
I mentioned my surprise to Lorenz the next day, when we had consumed a large breakfast and the ladies were away cleaning up.
“Oh yes, quite deliberate,” he said. “These are battle preparations! Almidahl is interested in those ladies for their femininity. They are already truly exceptional in that, something I think you have noticed, good Baron, although you may not quite have realized what you were experiencing.”
“Hrrumphh,” I said.
“Exactly. We are now heightening their femininity even more. They are moving from the investigative phase of sensuality, like a game of doctor and patient, into the appreciative phase, the ‘I’m really enjoying his touch’ phase, much as you have wished.
“And well they should. You obviously give very enjoyable touch, Baron. And you don’t mind receiving it, either.” I think I blushed, remembering how strong and skillful Lorenz’s touch had been as he took over massaging me when Ana’s hands had faltered. Taking pleasure in it had seemed utterly natural at the time.
“This is heightening their femininity tenfold. When these ladies are placed before the Queen, she will be bolder, for each is becoming a once-in-a-century prize … and there are three of them!
“But should they lose their virginity, their aura would change—the mystery element would be gone, so they would be much less useful to the Queen, even though she is in fact no virgin herself. She would still come, but she would be more cautious—none of us wish that.”
I looked at him carefully. “You’re Qin Non-won!” I said quietly.
The Gnome grinned. “You are a quick study, my Baron. Someday you may even learn to pronounce that name, too, correctly.”
“But why have you joined me in this battle?”
He frowned a bit. “As I said earlier. It is a question of what story this incident is a part of. I do not wish this to be the first chapter in ‘The Terror under Queen Almidahl and Her Hundred Children’. But that is a strong possibility if she gets her femininity potion made.”