"Yes, well, we'll return to that in a moment. Are you familiar with the legend of the philosopher's stone?"

Allen paused. He looked toward the kitchen at the sound of clanking dishes. At that moment, the small house seemed absurdly normal, not the kind of place he would have predicted he'd be when interrogated about the philosopher's stone at gunpoint.

Basil cleared his throat. "The philosopher's stone, Mr. Cabbot?"

Allen jerked back from the kitchen noise, met Basil's gaze. "It's some kind of magic stone that alchemists thought might turn lead into gold. Isn't that right?"

"That is the popular understanding," Basil said. "Scholars more learned in the subject understand that the philosopher's stone is not actually a particular mystical rock but rather a symbol of enlightenment, standing for knowledge beyond the ordinary. The ancient alchemists were unafraid to seek knowledge in places where others feared to tread. These alchemists were often condemned. Sometimes as charlatans, other times as practitioners of the dark arts."

At the words "dark arts," Allen flinched. He wasn't exactly sure why.

"In 1583, Holy Roman Emperor Rudolph II moved the seat of the empire to Prague," continued Basil. "Rudolph was a bit eccentric, and his interest in astrology and the occult became legendary. His court swarmed with thinkers and men of science."

While Basil's story unfolded, Allen's eyes darted around the room. Perhaps he could make a dash for a door or window.

"In 1599, Rudolph invited alchemist Dr. John Dee to join his court," Basil said. "Dee led a team of dedicated alchemists to solve the challenge of the philosopher's stone."

"This doesn't have anything to do with me," Allen said.

"I'm afraid it very soon might," Basil said. "For you see, your very own Professor Evergreen has come to Prague, not to write a chapter on Kafka as he'd have you believe, but rather to plunder the secret dungeons of Prague Castle in search of the philosopher's stone."

Allen went slightly pale, the surprise plain on his face.

"I can understand that this might be a lot for you to digest," Basil said.

"It's not that." Allen swallowed hard. "It's just that there's a priest at the window with a machine gun."

Before we witness the inevitable gunfire and breaking of things that's about to happen, let me just return briefly to something Basil told Allen. Basil mentioned Dr. John Dee and a team of alchemists.

Horseshit.

Team, my sweaty ass. There was no team. And John Dee. Let me tell you something about John Dee. Asshole. What an insufferable asshole. If I never lay eyes on that son of a bitch again, it will be too soon.

So yeah, I'm a little bit more interested in this part of the story.

Because this is the part about me.

THE BAD ALCHEMIST

(PRAGUE 1599)

ELEVEN

I am the ghost of Edward Kelley.

I am-was-an alchemist at the court of Holy Roman Emperor Rudolph II.

Impressed yet? Wait until you hear the rest of the story.

Okay, let me slow down lest I get ahead of myself. One thing at a time.

First let us address this idea of a "team" of alchemists mentioned by Basil Worshamn. There was no team. There was only me. I suppose if you count the maid who emptied our chamber pots every day and the young girl who brought us refreshment in the afternoons, you might consider we were all part of a team. But mixing just the exact right amount of milk and sugar into a cup of tea hardly counts as alchemy.

No, the entire team was yours truly, good old long-suffering Edward Kelley.

Man, did I hate being the team.

Dee was the worst sort of boss. Any dim-witted peasant girl could have cleaned the glassware and equipment every night, but Dee insisted that I do it. He trusted almost no one to handle his precious equipment. Make sure those herbs are put up just right, Edward. Don't heat the mixture in that beaker too long, Edward. Hurry with the monkwort, Edward, we're losing the moonlight. Measure that sulfur into exact portions, Edward.

Fuck you, Dr. John Dee.

So I was Rudolph's other alchemist. I mean, I never get any credit. You always hear about Dee. At best, old Edward Kelley is an afterthought. A minor blip in minor historical texts.

And I hate the picture they have of me in the Wikipedia entry. It's one of those generic old man pictures with some fucked-up hat like I'm half wizard and half Oxford professor. One of those long Gandalf beards. As if.

Look, there I am now. Young and strong and up to no good. Zoom in there at that window in the White Tower where my room is. Come have a look.

Come hear my story.

TWELVE

Kelley had the dress bunched up around her hips.

"Hurry," said the serving girl.

He was naked, climbed between her legs and put himself inside. She gasped, wrapped her legs around him, the heels of her shoes digging into his bare ass cheeks.

"Oh, Edward." She threw her head back, arched against him. "Oh, my Edward."

Kelley thrust, felt the heat building in his groin. He'd come to rely on these daily visits with the serving wench to break the relentless tedium of castle life. What was her name again? Brianna or something, wasn't it? Something with a B.

The serving wench's climax started as a low moan and built into a banshee scream as Kelley grunted with his own orgasm. He thrust three more times as his climax subsided. He sighed and rolled off her. She leaped off the bed, smoothing her dress down.

"I've got to hurry, my lord," she said. Now that the passion had passed, she no longer called him Edward. "Those great sweaty men in the courtyard will be wanting biscuits and grog, and it's all me and Miss Sarah can do to keep up with them. I don't know what sort of infernal machine they're building out there, but they work up a terrible thirst doing it."

"It's a moon machine," Kelley said. "When they're done, they'll shoot a man all the way to the moon. Straight through the air and past the stars."

The wench stood up straight, eyes wide. "Really?"

"No," Kelley chuckled. "I'm having fun with you." In fact, Kelley had heard vague rumors about the construction in the courtyard but nothing that made any real sense.

She rushed to the edge of the bed, grabbed Kelley's face in her hands, and planted a wet kiss on his lips. "I can't bear to be away from you, my lord. Until tomorrow."

"See you then, sweet." Kelley slapped her butt as she departed.

Red hair and skin so white it might have been milk. Already Kelley looked forward to tomorrow's visit.

He climbed out of bed and went to the window. The White Tower afforded a good view of the lane below, where a number of Rudolph's goldsmiths labored day in and day out. Kelley couldn't quite see the courtyard where the men labored, but the clank and hammer noise of work in progress drifted clearly up to the tower. Kelley was sure Dr. Dee knew what was going on, but so far the old alchemist had been as tight-lipped as a monk.

Kelley put on a shirt, slipped into a plain doublet and breeches. He hated the billowing slops Dee and the other fancy men wore around court. It made them seem preening and slightly feminine. He stepped into his shoes, sighed, and sipped the now tepid tea left behind by the serving wench. He winced. The primary failure of this tea was primarily that it refused to be wine.

Kelley chuckled. Some alchemist's trick, turning tea into wine. Then he remembered his New Testament and frowned. A similar trick, but it was water turned to wine, not tea. No, that was something beyond mere alchemy.

Not for the first time or the last, Kelley wondered if his work here at Rudolph's court wasn't in fact a terrible, terrible idea.

Did Kelley even believe in all that trumped-up mumbo jumbo? Basic mind tricks and sleight of hand to dupe the simpleminded rabble. Wasn't it? And anyway, it was better than pushing his mystic heal-all and bowel remedy back in Ireland, wandering from village to village, putting on his wizard act. Not that he'd actually been swindling anyone. Not really. Fish oil and beet juice and a few other special ingredients. It really had been quite a good remedy for constipation. It just hadn't been what anyone would normally have thought of as alchemy.

So when Dr. Dee had said he'd needed a pair of good hands for something special in Prague, well, the offer had been timely, seeing as there had been this pregnant farm girl in Cork, and, well, it had been a fine time to take a long, long trip.

Kelley choked down two more sips of tea, then gave up. After sundown he'd trot to the bottom of the castle steps and settle into his favorite pub. Sometimes he'd get too potted to make it back up again. There were quite a few steps, and it was steep going.

He opened his chest, wondering if he still had a flask hidden somewhere. He'd all but given up when a knock at the door startled him.

"Yes?"

The door creaked open, and Dr. Dee entered. He wore a ridiculously ornate doublet, and the sleeves of his shirt sported intricate braiding. His shoes were so shiny that they hurt Kelley's eyes. The expression on Dee's face was the worst-sort of a tight, haughty, contemptuous snarl. Dee could definitely benefit from some fish oil and beet juice.

"Good God, Edward, it smells like ass in here."

Kelley admitted to himself he was overdue for a bath, and the room was lousy with his dirty laundry. Still, Dee needn't have been so rude. More than anything, Kelley wanted to ball up his fist and punch all of Dee's teeth down his throat. He settled for saying the following:

"Fornicate with yourself."

"Yes, very amusing," Dee said, unperturbed. "If you can make yourself halfway presentable, we have an audience with His Highness in twenty minutes."

Kelley's eyes went wide. "Rudolph?"

"No," Dee said. "Another Highness. The king of the pixies has summoned us to a banquet. Of course Rudolph, you fool."

"But why?" Kelley had only met Rudolph once, when he'd come with Dee to Prague. Kelley had stood behind Dee, saying nothing and trying to appear intelligent. There had been no need to meet with the Holy Roman Emperor since then, and that had suited Kelley just fine.

"He's calling a number of his scientists and scholars together for a counsel," Dee said. "This might be the big one."

"You go," Kelley said. "Tell me what happens."

"You are summoned as well."

"I don't want to go. Tell him I'm ill."

"I'll do no such thing," Dee said. "There will be a number of engineers and astrologers. We're the only two alchemists in the castle, and I intend for us to make a good showing. Comb your hair, for the love of God."

"The love of God has nothing to do with any of this," Kelley said.

Dee rolled his eyes. "Spare me your squeamishness. I am not afraid to reach into the abyss where other men fear to look."

"I hate it when you talk like that."

"Nevertheless." Dee sniffed. "I am an expert in my field. And I won't let peasant religion or any other superstition stem my quest for knowledge. And I will stay on the path for answers... wherever that path might lead."

"And what if it leads us to hell, Dr. Dee?"

"Then we shall see what we shall see. But I'd be less worried about hell if I were you and far more concerned with a proper doublet. You look like a common tinker. My tailor dresses better than you. Where's the doublet I had made for you? The one for formal occasions."

"I'm not wearing that ridiculous costume."

"Wear it, damn you."

Kelley sighed, went into the wardrobe across the room, and came out with a doublet of fine material. It was deep blue, embroidered with yellow moons and stars. Kelley shook his head as he put it on. He stood in front of Dee, spread his arms. "Happy?"

"Placated," Dee said. "Follow me."

They spiraled down the stairs and out of the White Tower, Kelley following behind Dee reluctantly as they went down the Golden Lane and through the archway into the main courtyard, where dozens of men labored.

A monstrous construction of gears and flywheels caught Kelley's attention. "What is that supposed to be?"

"All will be revealed in time," Dee said.

"You don't know, do you?"

"Uh... no, actually. Not a clue."

They strode across the courtyard and into the castle proper. Various dignitaries and lords scurried to and fro. The castle hummed with activity, dozens and dozens of independent projects going like mad, all presumed to come together sooner or later in some kind of grand scheme.

Only a select few knew the ultimate goal of this scheme.

Kelley was in no way one of the select few.

Frankly, he was starting to wish he'd been back in Ireland selling constipation remedy. Spain. He'd always thought about Spain. Maybe Kelley could ply his trade in some of the warmer towns and villages along the Mediterranean. Ah, sun and sea. Kelley shuddered at the thought of winter just a few weeks away. Prague would become white and dead, bitter heavy snow sealing him into the castle for a month at a time.

Tonight. Kelley had a little money stashed away. He'd pack a small bag and slip out of the castle tonight, maybe sweet-talk a fisherman into taking him down the Vltava. He tried to calculate how long it would take him to make his way to Spain. His Spanish was weak, but it would get better living in the place. Kelley had a knack for languages. Already his Czech was passable, and if he did stay, it would be as fluent as a native's in another three months.

On the other hand, Spain might not be the best place for an alchemist. He'd heard the Inquisition had eased a bit in the last few years, but the thought of getting burned to a crisp as a heretic was enough to put him off Spain.

Sicily. He'd always wanted to see Sicily.

Kelley followed Dee into Vladislav Hall and abandoned all thoughts of sneaking away into the night.

The grand hall was alive with activity, the vaulted ceiling echoing with animated conversation and debate. A line of iron chandeliers hung low, with hundreds of candles spreading warm light. Men stood in groups of twos and threes. Some stood at tables, zealously pouring over elaborate drawings and design plans. A small group of men crowded an alcove, holding a thick, curved disc of glass as big as a dinner plate. Sunlight streamed in through an open window. The beams hit the glass disc, distorted, and splashed the men with rays of color, blue, red, green, yellow.

No, Kelley wasn't going anywhere. Something amazing was going to happen at Rudolph's court, and Kelley admitted he was eager to understand. Edward Kelley had been called a swindler, a cheat, a womanizer, and a drunkard. But the small part of him that was the alchemist could not bear the thought that something historical would happen here in Prague and he wouldn't be a part of it.

So Kelley kept his mouth shut and followed Dee the length of the hall.

The small audience chamber off the far end of the great hall was crowded with dour-faced men. But this was no audience, no diplomatic meeting of politicians and emissaries. This was a working meeting, men with sleeves rolled up, parchments, maps, and drawings spread across the table.

At the far end of the table sat Rudolph II, emperor of the Holy Roman Empire.

There was nothing remarkable about the emperor. Short, slightly pudgy, bland eyes. He sat with his shirt open, doublet unbuttoned, listening intently to an old, old man in monk's robes and a skullcap discuss the problems involved in removing tons of rock and dirt. Two men at the other end of the table, close to where Dee and Kelley stood in the open doorway, debated the best way to feed and house the hundreds of laborers who had descended upon the castle. There were other conversations that Kelley couldn't follow.

Rudolph spotted Dee and raised a hand. The din ceased abruptly.

"Gentlemen, I'm afraid I need the room," the emperor said. "If you could excuse us."

They stood, gathering parchments as they went.

"Stay just a moment, Hans," the emperor said.

A gaunt, pale man in his fifties nodded and resumed his seat.

Kelley followed Dee into the room after the others departed.

"Your Highness." Dee bowed slightly.

Kelley hastened to mimic the gesture.

"Gentlemen, be seated," Rudolph said. "Dr. Dee, I want you and your associate to make the acquaintance of Hans Vredeman de Vries."

The men nodded to one another.

"Hans has been designing fountains for the palace grounds," Rudolph explained. "He can work miracles with water flow and drainage. We've recently put him on to something a little more ambitious. Some of my scientists have suggested a new way of generating power, something that might aid your own research. I simply wanted you to meet. I think in the future you might be working closely together. Hans, excuse us, won't you?"

Hans stood, nodded again, and left.

The emperor turned to Dee. "Progress remains slow?"

Dee's smile was painful, embarrassed. "Highness, considering the difficulty of the task, a slow approach is certainly to be expected."

The emperor pursed his lips, nodded. Kelley detected no signs of emotion either way. Had Dee and Kelley been summoned to a dressing down? Were they to be chastised for slow progress, or was Rudolph simply after a routine progress report? Kelley had been relegated to cleaning beakers and checking measurements, but it was his firm opinion they would never turn lead into gold. Not if they kept at it for a thousand years.

Sicily. Definitely Sicily.

"What do you see as the key to success?" Rudolph asked. "On a fundamental level."

"It concerns the manipulation of matter on a level of pure essence, Highness," Dee said. "I've tried a number of chemical compounds in an attempt to sunder the cosmic energies that hold an essence in place."

A brief pause.

Then Rudolph said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

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