Chemistry - a Panamindorah Story

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  By evening, they were back at Lu’s apartment—two rooms at the top of a tenement building not far from the docks. It wasn’t much, but it was hers. For the last year, she’d managed to pay the rent with actual money, not favors. Like Silveo, Lu felt that she’d come a long way.

  “Someday,” muttered Silveo, “I’m going to buy you one of those little shops under the street, where real shady apothecaries do business.”

  Lu giggled. Dreamer. “You got me off Sern, and that’s already more than I can repay.”

  Lu was an eighteen-year-old ocelon immigrant. She’d arrived three years ago with nothing but the clothes on her back and the knowledge in her head. Most of that knowledge had been garnered from two former employers—a drunken apothecary and an elderly healer working in the slums of the shanty town where she’d grown up. Lu knew how to make medicines that she could sell, but she could not afford market prices for the materials. She was forced to either gather them in the woods a day’s journey from town or buy them at reduced prices from smugglers who had not paid legal tariffs.

  Drying plants hung everywhere in the apartment. Lu’s metal and glass equipment sat in the corner behind a screen. She had intentionally chosen the top level of the building, because the rooms had a small window, and ventilation was vital for many of her endeavors. She’d even snuck onto the roof a few times, although she risked eviction if she was caught.

  Lu knew that the climb to her rooms eliminated some potential customers, but she also suspected that it eliminated visits from local law enforcement who couldn’t be bothered. Most days, she visited the market, where she sold soothing teas, salves for arthritis, medicines for coughs and fevers and aches. Later, shelts would visit her in her rooms at the top of the tenement building to buy other things—most of them more embarrassing than illegal.

  Silveo was her oldest friend and she owed him. He’d made himself unofficial apprentice to a skilled assassin. Lu might not like what Malpin did, but he was the only reliable adult in Silveo’s life. She helped them whenever she could. Word had slowly got around that Lu was a meticulous chemist with discretion, cheap prices, and a knowledge of dangerous substances. Other shelts began to turn up at her door. They were polite, always paid on time, and never talked about their work.

  “Can you have it by tomorrow morning?” asked Silveo.

  “Yes, if I can put it in an alcoholic tincture.”

  “That’ll work.”

  Silveo thought for a moment. “Can you bring it down to the ship? I have other errands to run.”

  Lu made a face. She’d been on a ship only once before during their passage from Sern. The journey had been wracked by storms, and she’d spent it alternately vomiting and hiding from harassing sailors. From what Silveo said, the trip had been a lot better than his first voyage away from Sern as a stowaway in the hold of a merchant ship. Still, Lu had stepped onto the dock in Seashine vowing never to touch ship planking again.

  Only for you, lovely. “Where is it?”

  “Slip twenty-three on the eastern side.”

  “Anything I should know about the crew?”

  “They won’t be a problem. The captain will be around. I’ll tell him you’re coming, and he’ll show you where to leave the package.”

  “Alright.” She wanted to give him a hug, but, in spite of all his flirting, Lu had learned long ago not to touch Silveo without plenty of warning. She reached for his hand. “I’m glad you’re home. Tell Malpin I said hello. Do you think you could get him to play cards with us some evening?”

  Silveo gave a flash of teeth and squeezed her fingers. “Not likely, but I’ll ask.”

  Lu spent the rest of the afternoon pounding, mixing, and drying materials over a low fire. She had three other packages to deliver tomorrow, so the journey to Silveo’s ship would not be wasted. She wondered idly what arrangement he had with the ship’s captain and crew. He seemed to have spent about half of the last year with this ship and was in no hurry to leave. The ship itself appeared accommodating to his needs. But, then, Silveo lived amid a complex network of trades and favors. Maybe he killed the captain’s business partner…