The man grinned. “I’ll put together a few more recipes, just give me time.” He plopped a coffee cup on the table. “So, you want the herbed chicken or what?”
Edward nodded. “All right. Does it come with bread?”
The man disappeared into the kitchen and returned to set their table. “You in the armor—anything for you?”
“I’m fine. Not hungry, thanks,” Alphonse answered awkwardly. He couldn’t eat even if he wanted to. He turned back to the designs. “These designs … Are they yours?”
The proprietor smiled. “Lemac’s the name.”
“Did you make these, Lemac?”
“Most of ’em. It’s been a while, though. The bigger designs we made together.”
“Wow! They’re amazing!” breathed Alphonse.
“Thanks. Only rich folk can afford these, so most people think of ’em as indulgences. But one look at the designs, and most people agree they’re art!”
Lemac brought a bowl and spoon and laid them on the table.
Edward pointed at the designs on the wall. “You just display your schematics in public like this?” The complexity of the designs defied belief. Wouldn’t the goldsmiths want to keep them secret? Hung in the tavern like this, anyone could steal their patterns.
Lemac seemed unconcerned. “I didn’t learn my craft in a day,” he said with a grin. “Seeing isn’t the same as smithing.”
“Well, they’re very beautiful. I didn’t know people could work metal with such detail.”
Alphonse’s praise made Lemac blush. “Well, that was a long time ago.”
“You don’t make these anymore?”
Lemac’s expression darkened. “You walked here from the station, right? Did you see any mining carts in operation?”
“No.” Alphonse shook his head. They had seen plenty of mining carts on their way in, but they were all rusting away.
Lemac turned to the window, a glass jar of herbs in his hand, and gazed out at the mines. Before the broken mountain was a wide plain. Several people crouched there, picking rocks from a pile and carefully examining them before tossing them aside.
“You can see we don’t have enough gold or goldware to fill up even one mining cart these days. The rails to the station are all rusting. Used to be, you’d hear the sound of trains and blasting and digging all day long. The town was full of craftsmen and customers come to buy their work. It was an exciting place to be.” His voice trailed off wistfully.
“Did the gold run out?” Edward asked.
“Appears so. There’re signs of a fresh vein a ways down, but most folks will be long gone before we reach it. You can’t grow crops on rock and sand.”
“Uh-huh.”
A palpable silence fell on the tavern. Lemac waved his hand as if to brush it away. “Well, I’ve got plenty of training left to do with my cooking arm if I ever want it to match my goldsmithing arm. Keeps me out of trouble all day.”
A customer chimed in, “And by the time your cooking improves, we’ll have found that gold!”
“That’s right,” another added. “And before we find that gold, Mr. Mugear’s research is bound to pan out!”
“I sure hope so …”
“What do you mean by that? We’ve just got to be patient! You want to craft gold again, don’t you?”
Edward had been absentmindedly admiring the designs on the wall, but now his ears pricked up.
“Who’s Mr. Mugear?”
“The owner of the mine. See that mansion up there? That’s his place.”
Just their side of the mountain, Edward saw a high wall with a large gate, firmly shut.
“That’s a big house! He must make a fortune!”
“Mr. Mugear was the first to make a business venture out of the mine. But now that the gold’s run dry, he’s just as bad off as the rest of us. Things will turn around for all of us if his research works out, of course.”
“Research?” Edward asked, trying to sound casual. He didn’t want to appear too interested, even though the word “research” alone had started his heart racing.
“He’s finished digging gold. He’s trying to find a way to make it! As much as we want! He’s manufacturing some kind of ‘Philosopher’s Stone.’”
Edward and Alphonse glanced at each other. This was the information they had been seeking. They were eager to ask more questions, but they were afraid of arousing suspicion. Reining in their curiosity, they listened attentively as Lemac talked on.
“You’re not too young to have heard of alchemy, are you? Rumor has it if you’re a good enough alchemist—the crème de la crème—you can make one of these stones. It’s pretty high-level alchemy. Nobody knows if it’s even possible.”
“It is,” asserted a man at the next table over. Several people nodded. Edward could see the hope in their eyes. They were all counting on this Mr. Mugear’s success, that was clear.
Suddenly a dark voice sounded from a table in the corner. “It’s impossible.”
Everyone cast withering looks in the new speaker’s direction. The man in the corner was spooning soup into his mouth. He looked as old or older than Lemac, and was sturdily built. He put his spoon down. His fingers were thick, and the face he turned to them was deeply tanned.
“How long have they been researching that ‘Philosopher’s Rock,’ anyway? While they’ve been holed up in that laboratory with those alchemists-for-hire, our town is going to rack and ruin. Are we that obsessed with gold?”
A few people stood up and protested, their voices shrill in comparison to his deep baritone.
“We used to make goldware that was the rival of any in the land! Everyone knows the name of Xenotime! We can’t just throw all that away!”
“That’s right! We know there’s another vein of gold out there. And a brilliant alchemist has joined Mr. Mugear’s laboratory! They’re bound to succeed! Belsio, you were never much of a craftsman yourself. Maybe you’re willing to throw it all away, but we aren’t!”
The man called Belsio slowly stood up. The atmosphere grew increasingly tense as he spoke in a soft voice. “Go on. Keep looking for your gold vein. But all we’re doing is breaking up rocks and throwing them away. If they want to play mad scientist up at the manse, let them. But we don’t have to keep funding their games with money we don’t have.” Belsio took a long look around the room. Then he placed the payment for his meal on the table and walked out, leaving the other patrons to digest his words.
“These are bad times for all of us! That’s why we’re scraping our money together to fund Mugear’s research. That Belsio’s just a naysayer.”
“Mugear’s collaborating with lots of alchemists. If anyone can make a stone that’ll turn rocks into gold, it’s him. And then we can all go back to trying to outdo each other’s goldware again!”
“But shouldn’t we at least consider some alternatives?!”
“What’s wrong with you? You’d throw away goldsmithing just like that?”
“I don’t want to throw anything away. But my son’s not well, and I’m thinking of moving and taking up a new profession. I’m stagnating in this town.”
“But if you stay, eventually—”
“Now, now,” broke in Lemac, “talk won’t solve anything. We’ve just got to keep busy. Norris, you’ve been searching for an expert to help find that gold vein, right? How’s that going? We’ve got to get back to mining! Delfino, don’t you have an order for goldware to fill?”
Lemac worked his way around the room, clapping several people on the back. The man he spoke to last had been Belsio’s harshest critic. “You’re right,” the man said, rising from his seat.
Lemac turned to Edward. “Delfino is the best craftsman in town. He’s got some smaller pieces that aren’t too expensive. You should take a look. There’s not much else to see here.”
“Thank you,” Edward said, “but what I’d really like to see is Mr. Mugear’s laboratory.”
Lemac and the others, many of whom were on their way out the door, stopped in their tracks. They laughed at the boy’s serious tone.
“You’re barely older than my daughter!” Lemac said, tousling Edward’s hair. “Are you really interested in all that nerdy alchemy stuff?”
To Lemac, Edward was nothing but a boy, and alchemy was an impossibly technical science. The townspeople’s hopes all rested on it, but they never dreamed of comprehending it.
“The laboratory is off-limits. Not even we are allowed inside,” one of the men said. “First time I’ve met a kid interested in alchemy,” he added. “Your dad get you started?”
Everyone looked at bronze-armored Alphonse, who was standing beside Edward.
“Huh?” Alphonse sputtered, not following their point. Edward gave him a dirty look. This was a new one. “What?!” Alphonse glared at his brother.
“Sorry,” Edward said. He laughed. “It’s just, that’s the first time someone’s mistaken you for my dad!”