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Draco, the farmer's son, was fascinated by him. He 

knew inside him that the Old Man was a man of both 

science and magic, and Draco wanted to know all 

there was about them both.

So it was that he had gone, cap in hand and trembling 

just a little, to see the Old Man. He offered to fetch 

and carry for him, to feed his cats, to cook his 

dinner... whatever he could to be able to observe the 

Old Man's work, to learn his secrets.

And so Draco scrubbed the floors and 

strange potion bottles; kept the fire alive 

in the grate; he emptied the Master's 

chamber pot; and carried the heavy jars 

which were delivered by large horses 

pulling a cart three times a month.

The Old Man poured over his books, 

papers strewn untidily all over the great 

oak table in the dark vaulted room in 

which they worked. If Draco got the 

chance he would try to tidy them, so that 

he could look at the strange symbols and 

signs scratched onto the parchment. 

Draco could read, but not these magic 

letters. 

Draco lived for the moments when the Old Man would pause as 

he mixed the coloured liquids together in the strangely shaped 

bottles, or ground pungent powders together and chunky bowls, 

pause, look up and say "Hold this for me boy! And careful now, 

for if a drop is spilled upon that powder, who knows the 

consequences!"

And running forward, Draco would say, "Why, sir, tell me why?"

But the Old Man would be 

lost again in his concentration upon his 

work, and would only mumble,

" All in good time, my boy, 

all in good time."

When he was gone it was quieter than ever in 

the old house. Draco cut up some fish heads 

for the cat, which was mewling and rubbing 

around his legs.   Then he collected the trash to 

take out into the garden to be burned. Next he 

must fill up the water jug on the Master's 

wash stand. But as he came to the door, 

something caught his eye on the floor. 

“More trash,”, he thought. When he 

bent and picked it up though, he saw 

that it was in fact, a rather important-

looking piece of parchment. 

“My word,“ he said aloud in his 

excitement. “ This looks important. I 

think the Master must have dropped it 

on his way out.”

The parchment 

showed a 

complicated circle 

with lines crossing 

it in the shape of a 

triangle. 

Around the edge was writing of the sort that 

Draco could not read when he had first 

become the Alchymist’s apprentice. But little 

by little he had been learning the meaning of 

the odd symbols. And he felt sure he could 

now follow these instructions. What a chance 

he now had to show Sylvarius that he should 

not be treated like a fool!

The equipment was set up all ready in the 

dark old work room.   What if he was holding 

in his hands was the key to the whole thing? 

What if he, Draco the Apprentice, could be the 

one to succeed where all others before him 

had failed? What if the Alchymist – and, best 

of all, Sylvarius were to return tomorrow to 

find, there, in that glass bottle …. gold, pure 

liquid gold.

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