The Blackthorn Key

What I hadn’t recalled, unfortunately, was that none of the chambers had any windows through which I might escape. Most of the light in the workshop came from the candles set in the walls, already burnt down to nubs. More light spilled from the door to the cook room. I fled in there, hoping someone was still working.

No such luck. The only sign of life was the fires left blazing in the dozen massive ovens. The masters had put pots on the grills to simmer long-cook recipes while they took their day of rest. I was alone.

And I was trapped once again.

“In there!” Wat shouted from the courtyard. “He went in the lab!”

It was over. They’d cornered me. And, I realized, I still had the secret to the crypt in my pocket.

Isaac has the key.

I pulled the scrap with the deciphered code from under my master’s sash and threw it into the nearest oven. It curled instantly, crisped to ash. I almost cast in the page from the ledger, too, but I couldn’t. I saw my master’s handwriting on the paper and I . . . I just couldn’t.

I crammed the paper back under the sash and hunted desperately for a weapon. Here, at least, I had better choices than I’d had in Oswyn’s office. A heated plate of iron, say, cooking on the fire. Or a poker, to use as a spear or a club.

I shook my head at my foolishness. I wasn’t King Arthur. I wouldn’t be slaying any giants today. The Elephant alone could crush me just by thinking about it. And even if I got past him and Martin, Wat still guarded the exit with his knife. I’d never get out of here in a straight-up fight.

What I needed was a distraction, like the last time I’d run away from Wat. Well, this was a laboratory. And if there was one thing I could do, it was make distractions.

I ran to the storeroom at the far side of the cook room. It was so stuffed with ingredients, I could barely get inside. I’d never seen such a selection. Five-, ten-, twenty-gallon glass jugs held a dizzying rainbow of liquids. The ceramic jars were so big, they looked like they were built for whales.

The first thing I needed to do was buy some time. I found two ingredients: sugar and saltpeter. Together, they were the best distraction makers in the world.

I dragged the jars into the cook room, ceramic scraping along the stone, ignoring the howling pain in my back. My plan would work better if I could melt the ingredients first, but I didn’t have the time. So I just tipped both jars over near the doorway that led back to the prep room and tossed their spilled contents together with my fingers.

Voices carried from the central chamber.

“He broke my tooth,” Martin whined.

“Quiet,” the Elephant said.

“I’m going to kill the little worm.”

“You’re not going to touch him. Now shut up and let me listen.”

I crept to the nearest oven and used a set of tongs to grab a glowing coal.

“Games are over, Christopher,” the Elephant said. “Come on out.”

Footsteps came closer to the doorway, moving cautiously.

I dropped the coal in the heap of white on the floor.

There was a hiss.

“What’s that?” Martin said.

Then the powder burst into flame. Smoke poured from the mound as a rose-red wall of fire erupted, keening like a banshee.

“Back!” the Elephant shouted from the other room. “Get back!”

I fell to the stone and scrambled away, just as scared as the others. I’d never mixed so much sugar and saltpeter before. The inferno spattered hot caramel drips at my shoes until the grains were spent, leaving a charred splotch on the flagstones. Smoke filled the room, a fog of white. I could barely see inches in front of my face.

“God’s breath. He set the Hall on fire,” Martin said.

“Christopher!” the Elephant called. “Get out of there! You’ll kill yourself.”