The Alchemist's Touch Read Online Free PDF Page A

step, and she took them all in with sharp, dark eyes. Ebon’s parents rose quickly in respect. “Sister,” grumbled Shay, stepping away from the table.  
    Halab went to him. He kissed her cheeks and then bent for her to kiss his forehead. Hesta came forwards more eagerly and wrapped Halab in a warm embrace.
    “Sister,” said Halab, echoing Shay. Then she released Ebon’s mother and came straight to him. Ebon straightened with a smile. “And look at you, darling Nephew. You are a man full grown now, and no mistake.”
    For a moment he quailed, for in his mind the words held another meaning. But he quickly shed the thought—Halab had not seen him in half a year, and he had grown inches since then. He stepped forwards to kiss her cheeks, but she pulled him into a hug instead.
    “None of that formality. My heart sings to see you.”
    “And you, Aunt.” Then, for courtesy’s sake, he kissed her cheeks all the same.
    “You are never lacking in charm. May I join you for your meal?”
    “Of course,” said Shay brusquely. Quickly he went to scoop up his plate and move it to the next seat. Halab sat at the head of the table. Ebon returned to his seat at the other end, but Halab stopped him with a sharp word.
    “What are you doing all the long way down there, nephew? Surely you were not banished for anything so trivial as the perfume you have surely bathed in?”
    Ebon froze, unsure of how to answer. He knew better than to speak ill of his father, especially with the man right there to hear it. But Shay spoke first, saving him from the dilemma. “He stinks worse than the Palace.”
    “Still, family is family,” said Halab. “Come, sit beside your mother, so that you may be as far from your father’s delicate nose as may be.”
    Still uncertain, Ebon went to do as she asked, keeping a careful eye on his father. But Shay said nothing to gainsay his sister, though Ebon noticed his knuckles whitened around the silverware. Meanwhile, a servant ran to fetch a new plate of food for Halab. Ebon saw the man’s hands shaking as he set the plate down before her, and scoffed. The servants were too used to serving his father, and seemed not to know his aunt’s more genial nature.
    “How did you fare at the palace this morning, Brother?” said Halab, speaking around a tiny morsel of food.
    “The same as always,” growled Shay. “She keeps us waiting in her halls, and will not even give us a time to return when we might actually speak with her. They claim it is because of trouble brewing between Selvan and Dorsea, but I think that is an excuse. She thinks herself too high and mighty for us.”
    “She is the High King,” said Halab amiably, shrugging. One of her braids came loose to swing down towards her ear, and she lifted it carefully back into place. “We serve at her pleasure.”
    Shay snorted loudly. But Ebon noticed with some interest that he did not slur the High King as he had done before.
    “In any case, I had already heard something of your troubles,” Halab went on. “I spoke with a friend at the palace—a very highly placed friend indeed. He has secured an audience on your behalf. Visit the palace at midday tomorrow, and you will find the throne room doors are open to you.”
    “Do you see, my love?” Hesta smiled gratefully at Halab. “I told you that this would work out.”
    Shay’s eyes stayed fixed on his plate. “Thank you for your help, Sister. That is most kind.”
    “Think nothing of it. I am confident the High King will speak on our behalf and secure our new trade route through Dorsea. This threatening border squabble is nothing of import, and certainly not to us.”
    His father’s hands clenched harder. “Certainly.”
    Ebon smiled to himself, careful to still his face. He did not like to think what Father might do if he was seen snickering. But then Halab turned to Ebon, and he straightened in his chair.
    “And what of you, Nephew? How have you enjoyed your time upon the Seat? I hope