The Blackthorn Key

Isaac raised the scroll he carried. “If I may, Sir Edward?” He hobbled forward and handed the parchment to the Grand Master. “Over the past few months, Benedict became concerned for his safety. I know he registered a new will with the Apothecaries’ Guild. He also left a copy with me.” Isaac smiled. “Just in case.”


Sir Edward read it aloud. “I do hereby leave all worldly possessions to my apprentice, Christopher Rowe of Blackthorn, to be administered by Hugh Coggshall until the day Christopher becomes a freeman of the city.”

My jaw dropped.

Valentine couldn’t believe it either. “Let me see that.” He snatched the scroll from Sir Edward’s hands and scanned it. “How do we know this is legitimate?”

“It’s properly witnessed.” Isaac pointed to the signatures at the bottom of the page.

“By Hugh Coggshall and Lord Henry Mortimer. Both of whom are dead.”

“His Majesty will affirm the will,” Lord Ashcombe said. “If that’s necessary.”

Sir Edward shifted in his chair. “I’m certain we may accept this document as valid. Nevertheless, a problem remains. As Valentine has pointed out, Hugh is dead. His widow, who would legally become the new guardian, is not a Guild member and may not run an apothecary. And Christopher”—here he paused—“is still an apprentice.”

My heart leaped.

“His Majesty has considered that,” Lord Ashcombe said. “He offers to act as ward of the shop, holding the profits secure, until Christopher is of age. In the meantime, he agrees to pay a generous stipend to cover the wages of Christopher’s new master.”

“And who will that be?” Sir Edward said.

Lord Ashcombe shrugged. “That’s up to you. His Majesty would never interfere in Guild affairs.”

I didn’t think Valentine could turn any redder. Sir Edward gave a wry smile.

“No,” he said. “Of course he wouldn’t.”

? ? ?

I tilted my head back, closed my eyes, and let the sunshine warm my face.

“Christopher!”

Tom, beaming, ran through the traffic outside Apothecaries’ Hall. He weaved around the mob of pigs that clogged the street and wrapped me in a bear hug.

“Ooof,” I said. He put me down. “How did you know I was here?”

“Isaac sent word to come,” he said. “What happened?”

I told him. He couldn’t believe it either. “Your own shop?”

“Well, it’s not mine yet, exactly. I’m still just an apprentice. I won’t really get to own it for years.”

“You’re getting a new master, then? Who is it?”

“I don’t know.” Thinking about it made me nervous. I wondered if someone like Valentine—or worse, someone like Nathaniel Stubb—might take the position out of spite.

“Well, well.” Isaac stepped from the Hall’s great doors, his hand supported by Lord Ashcombe’s arm. “The twin pillars of trouble.”

The King’s Warden reached into his belt and pulled out something silver. “I believe this is yours,” he said to me. “Officially, now.”

He handed me my puzzle cube. I held it to my chest. “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you both.” I looked up at Lord Ashcombe. “I’m so grateful for what you did.”

He grunted. “You shouldn’t be. I didn’t win you any friends in there.”

“But . . . His Majesty said—”

“Oh, no one will act against you, not openly. Some will cozy up to you, try to win His Majesty’s favor. Others will resent you and work to bring you down. It’s also possible there are still some remaining in the Guild who sided with Oswyn. You’ll have to be very careful about who you call a friend.”

I looked at Tom, who was trying to avoid the drove of squealing pigs, then at Isaac, who nodded. “Always sound advice, sadly,” Isaac said. He turned to Lord Ashcombe. “Do you mind if I speak to Christopher a moment, my lord?”

When Lord Ashcombe shook his head, Isaac put his hand on my shoulder and led me a few paces away. “We had to bury Benedict while you were in the Tower,” he said quietly. “But I think it would be nice to have a private memorial. Just for those of us who loved him.”

I nodded, grateful. “I’d really like that.”