An Opus Alchymicum Vol 1: The Experimental Theologian's Apprentice

The Mirror of Wohsi

"Have you packed your thermals? I hear it gets very cold in the far North."

"Yes, Mum."

"And your hat and gloves?"

Hermione simply rolled her eyes at the suggestion that she'd forget those.

"And enough clean knickers to be going on with?"

"Mum!" Hermione blushed hotly. "I've packed everything. Stop fussing!"

Catherine eased down on her restless pestering and tried to run a brush through Hermione's hair, but it was getting so thick now that the teeth kept getting stuck.

"Perhaps I should give this a little trim before you go," Catherine offered, snatching up a pair of hair shears from the vanity table. "Maybe just an inch from the bottom ..."

Hermione turned and took her mother's wrist gently in her hand. She looked kindly into Catherine's fraught expression.

"I know what you're doing, Mother," Hermione whispered softly. "But you need to stop worrying. Everything's going to be fine, I promise. You have to trust me. I'm going off to do something really big and important. I'll make you proud."

"I'm already proud of you," Catherine cooed, smoothing her palms along Hermione's hair as she did her best to flatten it. "I'm going to miss you so much ... I hope you know what you're doing to my poor heart. You will be careful, won't you?"

"No, Mum, I don't see the point in that," Hermione replied sardonically. "I'm going to call every Tartar all the swear words I can think of, tell the Magisterium that their God is a woman, then ... just in case all that isn't enough to get me killed or thrown in prison ... I'll stick my head right into the jaws of the meanest, most vicious panserbjorne I meet to save him hunting for his supper! That's been my plan all along, didn't you know?"

"Don't be flippant, my girl," Catherine berated with a small frown. "I may not be your illustrious Mistress Lyra, but I'm still your mother, you know, and I can still stop you from going on this little adventure of yours before you set a single foot out of the front door."

Hermione looked grimly at her mother. "No, Mum ... you really cant."

Behind them, Papageno whimpered in shame and hid his badger eyes behind his paws. It wasn't like Hermione to be so brazen, and her dæmon was left to wonder what was happening to his human these days.

But Catherine seemed to understand, and she sighed by way of acknowledgement. "No, I actually don't think I can."

"Mum, look," Hermione started, her tone gentler. "I have to do this. I don't know where I'm going, or how I'm going to get there, or what will happen along the way. All I know is that this feels right ... more right than anything else I've ever known. So I just have to do it. And, when I'm done, I'll come back and tell you all about my adventure. We'll sit in front of the fire, and drink cocoa, and you can make some of those Banana Cakes I like so much, and I can tell you about all the exciting things that happened on my journey, and we'll laugh and cry and forget that you were ever cross at me for going at all."

Catherine dabbed at her eyes. "That sounds ... lovely. Yes, we'll do that. But, Hermione, just promise me that you wont do anything reckless."

"Like what?"

"Oh, I don't know," Catherine mused. "Go looking for trolls, or something. I hear there are all kinds of monsters out there."

"Mother!" Hermione giggled. "This isn't a faery tale, you know. There're no such things as trolls. It's the night-ghasts and fire-drakes that you really need to worry about. They feed on the flesh of females who get lost on the ice ..."