Laurel worked me to the bone from that day forward. For the next two weeks I would be at her shop at dawn and leave only after the witching hour rush. When my lease at The Rusty Bucket finally ended, I moved into the shop and worked even longer hours. I hated it at the time, but when I look back, I realize that Laurel was protecting me in her own way. The slavish way in which she drove me kept me from thinking about Mike during the day and left me too exhausted at night to have nightmares about him.

During that time I memorized the recipes that are a part of every alchemist's repertoire. Curatives, which were the cheap solution to finding a white mage when it came to poisoning. Even the smallest wound caused by a magical beast could be fatal to an adventurer. A curative taken in the proper time, or in the case of my own curatives, before the heart stopped beating, was capable of staving off a lingering death, and worse, the Rising.

The Rising is one of the ghastlier side effects of living in unconsecrated lands. Anything with sapience which died in lands which had not been drained of their magic, eventually rose again as an undead monster. Worse, if a Risen person was allowed to persist more than three nights, it grew stronger. A favorite tale of adventurers was the Risen King. A great soul who had perished in the far southlands, and now wandered the wastes, seeking to raise an army to destroy all living.

Strangely enough, curatives had no effect on infections beyond those caused by magical creatures. I decided to ask Laurel about it one day.

"It's because curatives are highly specific," She said, "You may not have noticed because I've had you making mainly rathound curatives, but each specific magical beast's poison can only be cured by a specific curative. Rathounds are the most numerous menace around Vern, so I have you make them in quantity. A rathound curative would stave off the effects of a bile toad's venom for a while, but the victim would still die."

"Can you teach me to make more curatives?" I asked, "Or better yet, can you teach me to make a universal curative?"

Laurel laughed, "This isn't like the medicines you always talk about Ethan! It's magic, plain and simple. One curative works for one type of poison. I don't make the rules, I just follow them."

"What about a bile toad curative?" I asked, "Would it work on a rathound's poison?"

Laurel paused, then pulled a book from one of her shelves and started flipping through it. After several minutes she slammed the tome shut and sighed.

"I... I don't know." She said, "I don't think it's been tried before."

Do these people not understand what the scientific method is?

"Maybe we could ask an adventurer-" I began.

Laurel prodded me with her pestle, "Listen very closely apprentice. We make curatives to save lives. We don't play around with curatives. We use what works, because when we don't, people die. Curiosity killed the cat, and in this case, the cat's patient. Always remember that."

I nodded, lowering my head, "Yes master."

Beyond curatives, Laurel also taught me how to make several types of elixirs and potions. She warned me specifically to never use potions, as they had a degenerative effect on the body after even a single use.

"A potion is a strong tool," She said, "We make them because sometimes adventurers just need an edge. The problem is, every time that a person drinks one, it damages their body in some irrevocable way. A strength potion might help you survive, but after the effects wear off, the total strength of which your body is capable will be permanently lowered."

"The use of elixirs is a different matter completely," She continued, "Elixirs supplement the training and growth of an individual. They take a long time to show dividends but will eventually make a person stronger than they could have been on their own, and at a faster pace."

"So why don't we make elixirs for everybody then?" I asked, "If Mike had been a little stronger..."

Laurel patted my hand, "It's essence again. The cost to make elixirs is sizable, and you have to buy many of them for the same overall effect you would get from a single potion. Adventurers save for years before purchasing an elixir set from me. Once they do, they usually end up leaving Vern to find more dangerous foes."

"I don't have that problem." I muttered.

Laurel laughed, "Yes you do. Curatives require relatively little in terms of essence. If I put you to making a batch of elixirs, you would run yourself dry by your second or third one. Then you would have to wait until your soul healed naturally or would have to spend money on essence. A little counterintuitive, don't you think?"

I nodded thoughtfully, "I would like to try though."

Laurel eyed me warily, "The ingredients for elixirs are rare. You can't just make them out of plants, they require materials from monsters. Discounting the essence cost, it's still expensive. I would be taking a risk."

"Please?" I asked.

She sighed, "Okay, but you'll owe me if you screw up. If you feel like you're reaching your limit, let me know. I don't know if infusing external essence half-way through the brewing process would work, but the extra nudge might be the difference between abject failure and stunning success. If you don't add just the right amount of essence, it will completely ruin the elixir."

"Right!" I said, excitement swelling, "Let me at the ingredients!"

She grinned, "I knew there was a reason I liked you. This recipe will produce a six round batch of a relatively minor strength enhancing elixir. We'll assess how you're feeling after that."

Base: Purified water

One heart of a Minotaur, quartered

Two cups of Fenmel

Six and half leaves Vyrken

Two Gryphon feathers (preferably fresh)

The list went on. I staggered slightly as the size of it, but Laurel took it as a matter of course.

"Is there any way to substitute things?" I asked.

Laurel shrugged, "Once you complete your apprenticeship you can go ask another alchemist for their recipe. They'll charge in either money or a favor, but you could compare the two. It's theoretically possible, but with the cost of materials..."

"Right." I said, "Thanks though Laurel. I think I'm starting to get the hang of this."

"Tell me that when you're done with this batch." She said, "As a reward... I'll let you look through my personal grimoire. If you can make any level two elixir from it, I'll promote you to journeyman."

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"No more mass produced rathound curatives for starters." She said, giving me a grin.

"I'm on it!" I yelped, suddenly energized.

The first thing I noticed while brewing the strength elixir was the increasingly euphoric sensation of magic flowing out of my body and into the mixture. I had to pause several times to steady myself, as I truly feared messing something up if I let myself work any longer. Somewhere halfway through the process, that pleasant feeling began to morph into a feeling of stretching. It manifested itself as discomfort for a minute or so.

Then the pain started.

At first, it was needles in my feet. Slowly, those needles began spreading up my calves, then to my thighs. My legs began to shake. Laurel noticed my unsteadiness and lifted up one of my pant legs, running a hand across my calf. I barely noticed.

"Interesting," She said, "I thought you would have passed Merkel's limit a while before now.

"What?" I gasped, the pain climbing towards my navel.

"Merkel's limit is defined as the point at which the pleasure of using magic suddenly becomes pain. It still feels good though, doesn't it?"

I nodded, my head, the sensations lancing through my body making me want to scream and laugh at the same time.

"As it stands," She continued, "You're more than halfway done with the brewing, and you've just barely begun tapping into the last half of your essence capacity."

I didn't respond, all of my mental capacity focused on the brewing now.

"Good," She said, "Keep your focus. Many people with great spirits die because they can't focus through the sensations that magic brings. Some people think that all babblers are the product of raw essence. The truth is, at least half of them are middling to great souls who couldn't take this."

The rest of the process was almost dreamlike. When I finally finished, I was staring up at the ceiling, absently glad that Laurel wore trousers instead of a skirt.

"You may want to stop thinking," She said through the haze of my mind, "Your mouth is running with your thoughts. I'm flattered, but I make it a point not to sleep with my apprentices."

I vaguely noted the drool dripping down the side of my face. Laurel stepped over me and examined the copper vessel in which I had finished the brewing.

"Well," She said, "Unless I am very much mistaken, you have concocted a level one strength enhancing elixir. Let's get you tucked into bed, you're in for a wild night."

She wasn't wrong.

I tossed and turned for most of the night, wanting to drift off, but unable to. My flesh felt raw, as if someone had taken a block of salt and scrubbed me down thoroughly. Everything that I touched felt like fire. Then I started to feel the bugs crawling under my skin.

I vaguely remembered Laurel hauling me into a tub and dumping some kind of liquid into the water. It frothed and I was lucid for several moments. Long enough to wonder where my clothes had gone. Then darkness took me.

Laurel told me later that I was out for an entire day. With the number of quality of dreams that I had during that time, I am loath to doubt her. Laurel claims that she saved me from death by essence drain because of the money that I brought in from that single batch of strength elixirs. I don't think I'll ever believe that. Well, not entirely. I did make a lot of money for Laurel as her gray mage apprentice.

True to her word, Laurel kept my secret. Well, the truth was, she kept the secret of all the gray mages that have ever been. Gray mages were generally regarded as the lowest type of mage, but that was because no gray mage yet had wanted to become a tool of the church or state. I think Laurel understood that better than I did while I was with her. That was why she kept the secret, and why she ordered me to do so as well.

I will always be grateful to Laurel Rafe.

Of particular note, I do remember one of the dreams I had during this time. It is a dream that has come to me time and again over the course of my life, though I did not realize its significance then. It was a simple dream. I stood in complete darkness, the world around me quiet as death. Hung in the air were two works, connected by a weaving of light.

Unlimited Potential

Alchemy

XXXXXX

One week later

"This is my fault really," Laurel said, working her hands over my temples as she examined my eyes, "I may only be a spark, but I should have known that using that much essence in one sitting would provoke some burnout."

"I'm fine, really." I said, though I would be lying if I said that I was 100%.

"Well," She said, letting go of my head, "What's done is done I guess. For now, we're going to devote an hour of your day to meditation."

"Why?" I asked.

Laurel sighed, "Because you idiot, if you ever want to go beyond making minor elixirs with that affinity of yours, you're going to have to learn some control. Essence burnout isn't that common, but it is one of the leading causes of preventable, nonviolent mage death. I didn't think of it because you're not a cardinal mage. It looks like we're both learning things as we go."

"Thank you master." I said.

"Maybe I'll make you call me mistress someday." She said, grinning wickedly.

Please no.

She grew serious, "Meditation will help you control the flow of essence through and out of your soul. The only problem is that I haven't the slightest idea where your outflow tracks are."

"My what?" I asked, looking down at my body, "Is something flowing out of me?"

"Essence you dummy," She replied absently, having gone back to looking me over like a prime cut of beef, "For a pyromancer, the outflow is just over the heart, symbolizing passion."

She gestured at her chest, "That is why I always touch my heart before using magic."

"Oh." I said.

She watched me for another moment, then finally spoke, "Strip down."

"What?!" I yelped, drawing back.

"You can keep your underwear on," She said, "but everything else comes off."

"Why?!" I protested.

"Do you want this to work or not?" She asked.

I hesitated, then nodded in assent.

"Than while I'm stumbling around here in the dark," She said, "You're going to have to accept that fact that I'm going to make some mistakes. Some that might hurt you. This will only embarrass you."

As I got out of my clothes, Laurel closed up the shop and got out the ingredients for a curative.

"Make me a twelve batch of rathound curative." She ordered.

I complied, though with only my underwear between me and the world, I felt distinctly self-conscious. As soon as I started the mixing, I could feel the tortured pathways in my body cry out in a combination of ecstasy and pain. Apparently I hadn't yet regenerated enough essence to pass Merkel's limit in the opposite direction yet.

Things just got worse when Laurel started running her hands over my body.

"What are you doing!" I yelped, almost dropping the curall I was working with.

"Shut your mouth and keep working," She growled, "I'm looking."

I somehow got myself working again as Laurel continued to feel me up. She stopped when I was almost done, and my own aching body quieted down after the curative was cooked. I quickly dressed.

After I finished, I turned to look at my master, only to find her buttoning up her own shirt.

"What?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"I told you," She said, gesturing at her chest, "My outflow track is just over my heart. I don't have a divination talent, so I had to improvise. It's easier if there aren't any clothes in the way."

I could feel my face heating up. Strangely enough, Laurel seemed unaffected by the fact that she had just been half-naked with me. I wondered briefly if this were something that mages did often. I really hoped not.

"So..." I asked.

She jumped slightly, as if I had interrupted a long train of thought. I suddenly understood her lack of embarrassment. She had just been lost in thought.

"To be honest, you're leaky." She said.

"What?" I asked.

"You pushed yourself too hard with the elixir," She said, "You're leaking essence from multiple sites right now. I've seen this once before, in a mage who became a mundane shortly thereafter."

I gaped, "Do you mean that I could..."

She nodded gravely, "You could lose your magic."

"What do I do?" I asked.

Instead of answering, Laurel grabbed another book down from her shelf and began flipping through it. After several minutes in which I felt a steadily growing icicle in my stomach, she finally slapped a finger down on the page.

She looked up at me, "How do you feel about bile toads?"

XXXXXX

Bile toads aren't very dangerous. True, they do have poison which can kill you, just like all other monsters. In fact, their poison is deadlier than that of the rathound, even though they are much smaller creatures. The thing is, if you run into one, it is more likely to retreat than try to fight. Even if it does attempt to kill you, the only way it can get poison into your system is by spitting in your eyes. Adventurers hunting bile toads are advised to use eye protection at all times.

I wasn't here to hunt bile toads. I was here to have one spit on me.

Bile toad poison has two major effects. The first is the killing effect, which it shares with all other monsters. The second is generally not thought of, due to the fact that when death is involved, it is usually the primary issue. In the case of the bile toad, their poison's secondary effect is that it blocks outflow tracks. I would later find out the reason for this, but for now, I'll simply say that I knew this because Laurel said it was so.

That was how I ended up waist deep in pond scum, my face covered in foul smelling toad mucus. It should also be noted that bile toad spit burns like a mother.

"Ahhhhhhh!" I screamed, throwing myself completely into the water in an attempt to scrub the stuff off.

"Keep splashing!" Laurel called helpfully from the sidelines, "You want to get as much into your system as possible."

I swore at her and continued trying to alleviate the burning in my eyes. Laurel laughed at my antics, and I found the wealth of gratitude which she had compiled in my heart steadily draining away.

"Did you keep the toad?" She called.

I held up the carcass of the thing which I had crushed when it had spit in my face. Catching the thing had been almost impossible. Once I had it in my hands, it had been more than willing to oblige my desire. Unfortunately for it, my reflexive squeeze and crushed it to death.

Good riddance.

"Good," She said, "Don't lose it. There are some uses for it that we can explore later."

"I would like the explore the distance at which I can throw it." I grumbled.

"I'll let you cut it open!"

I decided that I would keep it, if only so that I could torment its flesh further out of spite. Bloody toads.

Laurel and I quickly made our way back to the shop, where we repeated the dance from this morning, though with Laurel jabbing various parts of my body rather than running her hands all over it. The sensation was a little more bearable due to the fact that she seemed more clinical than last time.

"Well," She said, "It seems to be working."

I nodded, then held up the bottle of rathound curative that I had just made, "I hope this works."

"I believe that this will be a test of this 'scientific method' of which you are always praising." She noted.

"The fact that it's a curative made by a gray mage also helps," I pointed out, "Besides, the sample size is far too small for this to be a true experiment."

Laurel rolled her eyes at me, "You talk too much. Drink up!"

I obeyed.

The sensation of coolness spread through my body once again, and I waited for something to happen.

"We'll know by tomorrow if you're going to survive." Laurel said, "In the meantime, let's get back to work. And put some clothes on, pervert."

"This was your idea from the start!" I yelled.

She only responded with a grin as she turned to open up the shop, forcing me to dress quickly.

XXXXXX

The curative worked against the killing effect of the bile toad's poison, though it had no effect on the outflow blockage effect. I briefly wondered aloud to Laurel at one point whether or not I even had an outflow track, based on the fact that gray mages couldn't affect the world around them like other mages did.

"Well of course you do silly," She said, still mixing away, "If you didn't, your little trick with alchemy wouldn't work at all. Although I saw a lot of places where your soul was torn, there was a definite spot where the outflow was steady."

She held up her right index and middle fingers, "Two of them. Barely large enough to let out more than a trickle, but they were there."

I held up the two fingers she had mentioned, "Is it the same for all mages?"

"There are variations," She said, drawing a larger circle over her heart, "All pyromancers share this as their area, but within that area there is variation. Females especially tend towards the upper limit."

I blinked at that. Why was Laurel smiling in such a way?

Oh.

"Right." I said, feeling heat in my cheeks.

"You're too easy," She said, "Are you sure you're a man?"

I frowned, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," She said, brushing a lock of hair from her face.

I let it go.

"By the way, you've told me where the outflow track for pyromancers is. Do you know where it is for other mages?" I asked.

She nodded, "The cardinal ones at least. White mages are awfully strict about their secrets, and black mages, well, I haven't met any."

She answered my question by pointing to various parts of her body. Aerothurges released essence from the area around their nose and mouth, no surprise there. Hydromancers generally had tracks in their abdomen. I suppose that made sense, though it struck me as more a mental thing than a hard and fast law, as I knew from my old life that the majority of the body was water, and thus, could technically serve as a track. If my conjectures about the nature of magic were correct in any way.

Last of all was geomancers. I thought of Mike when she told me about them. Geomancers released essence from their feet. Most often it was the soles, but it could be the tops in some rare instances.

"That's why most geomancers will stomp the ground before using magic." She explained, "Although its technically not a requirement, some people at the Collegia Magico believe that it primes the body for the release of essence. It sounds like a lot of crap to me, but that's coming from someone who habitually touches her heart before using fire. So take my words with a grain of salt."

The bile toad poison did its work. As it passed from my system, Laurel performed one last checkup on me, confirming that my soul hadn't torn itself apart before it could properly heal. I wasn't convinced that she didn't just enjoy making me squirm