Star Winds

“An interesting story accompanies this volume,” he said when the younger man had closed the end cover. “The book is known to have existed nearly four thousand years ago when by chance it came into the hands of one Nicolas Flamel and his wife Perrenelle, who lived in a country then called France. For twenty-one years Flamel tried to carry out the instructions in the book, but could not decipher the symbols for the First Agents, which as you see are very cryptic, and the advice of learned men in this respect only led him astray. Finally he journeyed to another country called Spain, where he found a man able to understand the symbols and explain the text. Unfortunately this man died before explaining everything, but by now Flamel had learned enough to be able to discover the rest for himself, and after a further five years of research he completed the tincture. By projecting it onto mercury he was able to make both silver and gold better than that from the mine.”

“Do you believe this story?” Rachad asked, running his fingertips lightly over the copper binding of the book.

Gebeth nodded. “For one who has studied the book it has the ring of truth. I have applied myself to it for four years now, and like Flamel know that I shall never comprehend it without help. Yet I am convinced that here is the secret of the preparation of the Tincture.”

“And you are going to give up?” Rachad said incredulously.

“Yes.”

“But here it is,” breathed Rachad. He held the book in his hands reverently, his eyes darting here and there over the engraved surface. “All we have to do is find someone who understands it.”

“That is just the point. There is no one on Earth who understands it. That I have already ascertained insofar as I am able. Yet recently I heard where the necessary explanations may be found.”

“Where?” demanded Rachad, his eyes flashing. “Tell me where and I shall bring them to you—that I swear!”

“You are too rash, my friend, far too rash,” Gebeth said with a smile. “Three days ago I was visited by an itinerant scholar, one of those strange people who wander about the world gathering knowledge here, there and everywhere. His conversation proved him to be knowledgeable in alchemical matters—indeed in all sciences. After some deliberation I spoke of the book to him. He already knew of it, and was greatly interested as he had never seen a copy and asked me if I could obtain this book. So eventually I showed it to him and he studied it for two hours. He then said that, to save me from further decades of fruitless toil, he would tell me a secret known to very few, which he had learned from the high priest of the Temple of the Holy Ciborium, a religious order dwelling in the city of Kalek-Tepek. This order itself sprang from alchemical origins many centuries ago, though it no longer practices the art. At any rate, it was disclosed to my visitor that there exists a second book, written by one coming long after Nicholas Flamel—something like two thousand years after. This book explains the hidden meanings in the first book, supplying the missing signs and containing much else besides. Furthermore, it is explicit enough to be deciphered by one well versed in the field. But only one copy exists, and it will never be found. It is in a secret hiding place in the Temple of Hermes Trismegistus, which is in Kars, a city in Syrtis Major.”

“Syrtis Major?”

“A region of Mars.”

Rachad looked stricken. “Mars!”

Gebeth nodded. “A planet at one time famous as a center of alchemical researches, even more so than Earth. Many are the tales of marvelous transmutations accomplished there. But do you see the irony? The one possibility of achieving our aim lies far, far beyond our reach.”

In imparting this precious information Gebeth had a definite aim. He wished to persuade the boy once and for all of the hopelessness of seeking alchemical gold, before his ambitions gelled in that direction. Gebeth knew from personal experience what happened once that fever took hold. He thought of his past labors and fell to dreaming once more, his eyes glazed. Calcination, sublimation, solution, putrefaction, distillation, coagulation … he had mastered all these main operations, as well as the adjunctive ones—congelation, fixation, ceration, projection, infusoration, and so on. He had spent much money on obtaining the textbooks of this numinous work and had a library of which he was proud.

One needed to be an artist, too, to comprehend these texts. How else would one know that the silvery water, the divine water, the ever-fugitive, the seed of the dragon, the water of the moon, the milk of the black cow, were all names of mercury, or quicksilver?

A fragment of a poem from one of his manuals drifted through his mind:

… A dragon springs therefrom, which when exposed to heat,

Devours his tail till naught thereof remains.

This dragon, whom they Ouroborous or Tail-Biter call,

Is white in looks and spotted in his skin,

And has a form and shape most strange to see.