Though his last words had granted him my undivided attention, I forced my face into as neutral expression as I could manage. Of course, I suspected another trap or perhaps an assassin, I was certain that there were very few who knew of my interest in such pursuits. Regardless of whether he was an assassin or not, I was too tempted by the offer to depart.

“Oh?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could manage.

Thankfully, the alchemist didn’t seem to notice anything and had already returned to cutting at the body of the dead hydra as he continued speaking, “My secret, my secret. Likely not as much of an interest to one such as yourself. Ageless elves likely need not such secrets. No, not needed. But it is the only thing I have to offer.”

I looked around suspicious of hidden figures that might lurk in the shadows as he continued to speak, and quietly used earth manipulation to close the pathway between two plateaus that the soldiers had escaped down. I added a few more defensive wards, not that they were needed, and then a few spells that would prevent scrying or eavesdropping.

“Ha! Showing immortality to an elf. Like showing a coat to a sheep. The irony isn’t lost on me, no not lost on me. You’re likely the only one I could show such a secret to. I told a baroness once, and she held me captive to make it. A baroness! Yes. A baroness. Two years I toiled under her, but I planned my escape.” More pieces of flesh and innards flew from the hole in the monster as he spoke. Sometimes his words were so low that I wouldn’t have been able to hear them if I had been human.

“A potion to turn her into a troll, ha! The troll baroness, killed by her own husband and the very guards meant to protect her. Funny, funny. Keep me a captive, will you! Lucky I didn’t turn her into a pig! Then, there were the other alchemists who tried to steal my work. Scavengers the lot of them! It’s why my recipes are written the way they are. Ha! I wonder how their guts melted, it would have been beautiful to—aha!”

I waited for a few minutes, considering whether or not I should have a glass of wine, while I listened to the alchemist struggle inside the beast. Slowly, an organ rose up through the hole, with two human hands on either side. By the time he had made it down the side of the body with his prize, I had eaten a few slices of cake and had drunk three glasses of wine. The food and wine had placed me in a much more subdued mood than the giddy excitement that was bubbling within. I had a spare tome out and busied myself with sketching the man and his scenery so that I wouldn’t be overcome with excitement.

“Ah, almost ready! Oh! Yes, that’s a good idea, yes, it is!” The alchemist said from the ground next to what looked like the heart of the hydra. He then wiped his hands off on his smock and reached into his satchel to bring forth his tome to write in. After a moment, he paused and scratched his head with the ink-covered quill. “Excuse me, wizard, but what is your name?”

I had continued sketching while he wrote, but glanced up to him as I answered, “I am Nemon Fargus.”

“Ah! A name I have heard before, yes. Nemon. Fargus. I have heard that name, yes,” he spoke without looking up and continued to write.

I watched, but then it occurred to me that if he was telling the truth about immortality, I should also learn the man’s name. “And you are?”

He stopped and looked into the air with confusion. “I am,” he pursed his lips. “Pinio? No, that was the last one. Rulio? No, no, that was a while ago. Drumio? Yes! I am Drumio! For now. For today. Will be someone else tomorrow, though. I’m sure you understand. Can’t be the same name forever, or people will know the secret.”

He looked at me with a crooked smile when he said it, but then the smile fell from his face, “Or maybe you don’t know. Don’t need to hide. I must hide, yes, or they’ll know the secret. You? They know you’re immortal just by your ears alone.” He gave a forlorn sigh, and then his eyes lit up. “But! But I could give myself elven ears, yes! Would just need a little blood, and I could.”

His gaze then turned my way, with an expression I didn’t care for. I almost said something, but he shrugged and went back to scribbling in his book before I could. We did that for about an hour or so before he sat his book next to his satchel and began to withdraw items from inside. Potion bottles and tongues, herbs and droppers all appeared in a half-circle around him.

I continued to sketch the man and his process as he went about the ways of alchemy, cutting and measuring different pieces of his ingredients and preparing them. It was well into the night, and I had to use light spells to continue to see before he was finished. The final product, a purple potion that shimmered in iridescent colors on top was poured into three potion bottles, with enough for one more potion still inside the kettle it had been boiled in.

“At last! At last!” Drumio said with some happy laughter. “I can finally show you my secret! Ah! But I have to warn you. Yes, warn you. After I drink this, I might—I might not remember the debt. But do not worry! If I don’t, simply point at my journal. Yes, point here!” He made a grand gesture at the tome he had written in that rested on the ground next to his now-empty satchel.

I nodded my head as if I understood, but simply annotated his words into the book. I had nearly six pages of illustrations and notes from this day, far more than I normally write in it.

Seeing my nod, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he began drinking the potion that had remained in the kettle. After it was done, he carefully placed it back into his bag and began to place other instruments there as well. I wasn’t certain if this meant that the effects of the potion would take place over weeks or months, or if they had already taken place, but I was surprised when he clutched his stomach and fell over.

Before my very eyes, his face and body began to change. What had been a worn man of fifty or sixty began to age in reverse. Dark brown hair sprang from his head as the old grey hair fell out. His wrinkles shrunk and disappeared. Many of his burn scars, not all, faded away to reveal healthy skin beneath. I watched on with wide eyes and held my breath, as this happened.

In the span of a few short moments, he was done. I knew it was complete when he pulled himself up onto his hand and knees and began to vomit the foulest yellow bile I had ever seen. Afterward, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and looked around in confusion before his eyes settled on me. He made an expression of surprise, followed by confusion, followed by anger. I simply pointed at his journal and hoped the answer was in there. It would be a pity if such an accomplished alchemist, perhaps the only one I could think of that warranted respect, were to attack me.

I watched as he scrambled on his hands and knees to his tome, and flipped through the pages until he got to the last thing he had written.

The man sighed in relief and shook his head. “So, you saved my life?” he asked, his words tentative. Even his voice was younger than before.

“I did,” I answered with a single nod. My previous awe in watching his actions was still there, but I reverted to acting in an aloof manner.

“And I offered you this secret in exchange? How to make the potion of youth and three bottles?”

There was an edge to his voice now, though I didn’t know why. Perhaps he thought that if I felt greedy and lied, then he would be justified to attack me to keep his secret? I scoffed at him and didn’t bother to even answer. If he thought he could harm me, then he was a fool.

After a few minutes, the tension fled from his shoulders, and he sat down in the dirt. With a hand, he waved towards the bottles, “Take one.”

I raised an eyebrow in his direction. If this was the same man, and they looked quite alike, then I had heard him speak of poisoning a baroness and tricking fellow alchemists only hours before. Certainly, I would like to get my hands on such a potion. If I could test it on someone else in low doses, and watched more closely, then I might be able to see the magical effect in a manner that I could replicate them.

“It’s done. I read what I wrote. I know you have no need for such a potion. Yet, you have seen the effects. Maybe you’ll find a human you take pity on one day, or maybe we’ll cross paths again. There are so many possibilities—”

While the younger version of the alchemist didn’t have the habit of repeating himself as the older one did, he made up for it in long and rambling talk of intertwining fates and other nonsense. I didn’t listen to the end of his words, as once it was clear he wanted me to have the potion, I took it and left. I didn't just disappear, though. I was thoughtful enough to leave an illusion behind for him to speak at.