The Waterstone of the Wise [3]

[scriveyner]

.:Chapter Three:.

Florence


Edward Elric stepped into the sunlight from under the tiny book shop's awning and stretched both of his hands over his head, rocking forward on the balls of his feet. He had been sitting for hours, almost a day, folded in the cramped seating on several small aircraft. He hated flying, absolutely hated it but if he had to do so he preferred aeroplanes. There was very little on this world that would entice him to set foot in one of those accursed zeppelins.

He cracked his neck, and then put both of his hands on his hips. Florence was an old city, very old and he could almost feel the antiquity through the stones he stood on. It was a center of art and history, and Edward knew that the city was once the focal gathering spot of alchemists of any caliber in the ancient world. The city practically breathed alchemy to him; it was in the priceless codices and texts housed in spiraling Gothic cathedrals and libraries, it was even in the architecture of the towering church spires and the gargoyles who stared down mockingly from above. There was such a rich tradition of the art in this world that even if alchemy did not function as he was accustomed to, it was very much a vital part of the development of science in this land.

It was completely fitting that his search led him to this place. Edward pulled the much-folded letter out of his pocket and looked at it again.

Italian was one of those languages he just had never gotten around to learning. Alphonse could read and speak it, so he did not bother. It had never occurred to him, not once during the course of their travels across Europe that he would ever part ways with his little brother ... so the fact that Alphonse spoke that language meant that Edward could focus on other ones. Some words jumped out here and there - it was a close cousin to other languages he had been studying off and on, but it was just enough to frustrate him. The crest at the top of the page seemed faintly familiar. Jones had not recognized it either, and had in fact drawn a rough sketch of the crest to keep on him - but something had seemed off about his behavior. Edward had intended that their "partnership" be ended the moment that the plane touched down in Italy, but Jones had other ideas, apparently.

To be fair to the man, he seemed to have contacts everywhere. He was really far more adventurer than archaeologist, and he knew his way around a fight so he was more of a help than a hindrance. Either way, he was there for the long haul and while Edward had contemplated ditching him twice already, the man had paid for food both times on the university's dime and hey, who was he to turn down a few free meals?

Edward half-turned when he heard the bell on the book shop's door jingle. Indy stepped out of the shop, the brim of his hat shading his eyes from the bright sunlight. "Any luck?" Edward asked, folding the letter and replacing it in the inner pocket of his long coat.

Jones shook his head. "None. Each and every person has said the same thing - looks familiar, so sorry, can't place it." He tilted his head back and squinted at the church across the plaza as a crowd of pigeons startled near the spire. He glanced back over to Edward. "It's startin' to sound like a conspiracy, kid."

Edward's gaze turned vitriolic. "Just who are you calling a kid, Jones?"



"Sorry, sorry." Jones did not sound apologetic in the least. "I keep forgetting, you're so tiny and baby-faced you look like you're a student yourself." He had not bothered to look back at Edward, or else he would have witnessed Edward choking back a fair bit of rage. Instead, Jones scanned the plaza that the book shop fed out into.

The plaza was fairly active, both with tourists and locals. There was a pall of unease over the bright sunny day, as several Fascist militiamen huddled in small groups, watching the plaza and strolling about. There was no unrest - just unease. "So we can't figure out who the crest belongs to - what next?"

Edward frowned. That was his best lead - of course translating the letter itself was always an option, but Edward had a feeling that the contents would raise far more questions than they answered. However, it was looking less and less like he was going to have an option in the matter. He patted his hand over the interior pocket of his coat as he thought. "I'm not sure," he said finally.

"Well, we can't just stand around doing nothing."

Jones did have a point. They had to keep moving forward, Edward had to find this person, this entity who desired the unobtainable and convince them that their path led only to destruction.

Alphonse would know what to do.

Not for the first time Edward wished his brother was here with them. Their strengths complemented each other nicely - with Alphonse to bounce his ideas off of they would get this handled in no time flat, or bring down half the city trying. It was hard work keeping the small smile off of his face but Edward succeeded somehow.

From across the plaza a commotion erupted. Edward lifted his head and looked in that direction as feral pigeons scattered into the air and people spread across the plaza, trying desperately to avoid the confrontation. The Fascist militiamen were moving toward the scuffle and Edward started at Jones' hand on his shoulder, pulling him back into the shadow of the awning. "We should go."

That was when the strangest thing happened - and Edward Elric was used to plenty of strange things happening in his life. The awning above them bowed in suddenly, as if a great heavy weight had been dropped from above. Both Edward and Jones separated, moving quickly to opposite sides as the awning above them tore open, letting the sunlight through and dropping a bundle of old clothes and a hat through to the ground.

Edward and Jones exchanged surprised looks as the pile of clothing let out a low groan and a strange man sat up. He had a bruise on the side of his face and his lip was bloody; his dark red hair was cropped short and spiked slightly with blood that ran from a cut along his hairline. "Ow," this strange man said, rubbing the side of his head. He looked up, between Edward and Jones curiously. "Let it be said that I do not recommend defenestration as the best way to quickly vacate the premises."

"Are you all right?" Edward said, as Jones took a step back to stare up past the awning at the building that stretched four floors above. There were several men in dark clothing leaning out the window, scanning the ground below.

"Uh, it's time to leave," Jones said. "Now."

"Right," Edward said, as the red-headed man staggered to his feet. "Let's-"

Suddenly, the man had Edward by the front of his jacket, eyes wide. "I KNOW you," he said.

"Uh," Edward said, unsure of what to do. He did not feel threatened, despite this man being taller than he was - he was thin and reedy, practically swimming in the several layers of old, ratty clothes he was wearing. "You do?"

He peered in close, at Edward's face. Startled, Edward jerked his head back as the man released his coat. "I do know you," he said. "You're an alchemist." He grabbed Edward's hand - his false one - and with no hesitation at all started shaking it enthusiastically. "Always a pleasure to meet a fellow practitioner of the craft! Such a rare duck to come across, I must say that it is the curse of this newfangled technology that drives people away from the Great Art-"

Edward tried in vain to extract his hand. Jones did it for him by picking the man up bodily and moving him. "We have to go, now."

"Go?" The man said. "Where are we going?"

"Just, go," Jones said, shoving Edward forward, toward an alleyway that stretched between the two shops.

"Ah," the man said as Edward and Indy vanished down the alley. "But ... that's the wrong way."

~ * ~

The alley between the buildings was very narrow. Edward stumbled ahead of Indy, tripping over an upturned cobblestone and catching himself, barely losing his stride. He moved so agilely it was hard for Indy to reconcile the false leg that he knew the man had.

The German professor was a man of many curious mysteries. Indy had tried to ply him on the never-ending flight across the ocean but he was tight-lipped about himself. All he knew for certain was that Edward was the son of a famous occultist; he had a brother who was just as talented as he was and he was bound and determined to get to Florence and put a stop to - whatever it was that was going on. It had to do with the Philosopher's Stone, of course, but that was just a myth - no rock could exist with such properties.

Then again, Indy had borne witness to the wrath of God unleashed, so he was getting better at taking such things at actual face value.

Here in Florence he had intended to take his leave of the professor and find the location of the Cross on his own - but something warned him away. He had learned in all of his travels spanning six of the seven continents to trust when he gut gave off that nagging feeling that he was already on the trail of what he was looking for. Somehow, the Cross of Coronado tied in to everything that was going on.

Of course, their adventure together would come to a very quick and ugly stop if they got tangled up in the Fascists militiamen - which would very likely occur if the League of Shadows ninja pounced them in plain sight in the plaza. If there was one thing that Indy had picked up from his years of street fighting, it was to take the fight to where you had the advantage.

Edward stopped suddenly, when Indy was not looking and he very nearly slammed into the shorter man. "Hey!"

The twisting alley had turned into a dead end. It was newly bricked - new being relative, the darker brick could have been there weeks or decades, either did not matter because their way was blocked completely. There were several wooden crates stacked against the wall, some caved in but others intact. Of course, Indy could have worked with that if the assassin Ling Yao had not been sitting casually on one of the intact wooden crates.

After their encounter in America, Indy had pulled every bit of documentation he could find on the League of Shadows. It was all pure speculation, of course - they left no loose ends. An organization of that size could not be entirely without record, though, and there had been several records of a smiling Oriental assassin who killed ruthlessly.

The same smiling, Oriental assassin who sat innocently on a wooden box before them, a half-eaten apple in one hand.

"Ah," he said. "Forgive me, I was not expecting you both so soon." He stood in one smooth motion, flowing from seated to standing in the twinkling of an eye. Ling spread his hands and smiled, but there was nothing cheerful about his expression. "So what do you say, gentlemen? No more games, hmm?"

Indy had been through enough fights in his life to know when he was severely outclassed. Apparently the young professor did not have that same experience, as he tensed his shoulders and curled his fists. His prosthetic was a solid steel, so it was really his only advantage, and while he moved quickly Indy figured his punches would be must slower to compensate for the much heavier material of his arm. There was no way he would prove any challenge to the Chinaman.

He did have an advantage, though. Indy drew the pistol he kept in his back pocket, a quick draw that would have made the gunslingers of the old west proud. He was quite handy with the weapon, of course, having been instructed in sharpshooting by some very skilled instructors - and with no hesitation drew a bead on Ling and fired his revolver.

Ling moved.

He barely twitched aside, but the bullet seemed to pass him by completely, impacting against the brick behind him with enough force to send a small cloud of particles into the air. "Tut tut, professor. It's bad form to shoot your friends."



"I would hardly call you a friend," Edward said sharply. "Who is it who wants the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Ah, but that is the question of the day." Ling took a bite of his apple. "Who indeed, but every dreamer who fancied himself an alchemist? Better to ask who not, do you not agree?"

"I'm getting real tired of this guy," Indy said, his revolver still held at the ready. It seemed rather useless to shoot at Ling again, but he just might catch the man off guard. "Let's go."

"No," Edward said. "I have to know who it is who's behind all this."

"You're not going to get any answers from him," Indy argued right back.

"Maybe not, but I'm sure I can get SOMETHING out of him." Edward cracked his left hand with his right. "Even if it's just blood, or a few teeth."

"Hmm," Ling took another bite of his apple. "Seems as if your time is up."

Indy heard the sound of heavy boots on the cobblestone behind them. He turned around to see the two men who had spotted him from out the window, burly and in black clothing. They slowed as they turned the corner, and Indy had to wonder how easily that they had been run into this trap.

Edward had not even turned around to see the new arrivals, so focused was he on Ling. Indy sighed, and raised his revolver, aiming it resolutely at the forehead of the first man. This was going to be a mess.

As the first of the men came up on Indy, a door suddenly swung up from the wall itself. The door was colored the same as the dingy brick, a hidden exit into the alleyway from the store. The man slammed into the door face first and stumbled backwards, stunned. The red-haired man - the same one who had made his rather impressive entrance through the awning on the front side of the building leaned out and looked at the man he had knocked senseless, and then over to Indy. "I thought I told you that this was the wrong way."

He did not have to be told twice. Indy grabbed Edward by the back of the coat and slung him through the doorway, ignoring the man's indignant yelp. The stranger slammed the door shut and calmly placed both hands on it. Indy thought he caught a split-second of unearthly red light but he could not be sure, having come from the daylight into a nearly black storeroom. "We don't have much time," the man said. "They can't follow us that way, but they can come right through the front of the store."

Edward had caught his balance and was staring at the man. There was an expression on his face that Indy could not quite catalog, but there was curiosity there. "Who are you?"

"I don't know!" The stranger said cheerfully, without a hint of sarcasm. "Who are you?" He stopped and peered at Edward, his eyes shadowed in the dark storeroom. "Oh, I remember! You're the alchemist. That's important, you know. Alchemy is."

Edward took a step back, the man had invaded his personal space. He shot an imploring look at Indy but Indy shook his head. "I don't know him, don't look at me." There was a clatter from the front of the store and Indy looked up sharply. "But if it's all the same to both of you, perhaps we should save introductions for someplace a little less exposed?"

The red haired man had started shifting crates around the room, finding one in particular. When he touched its side, instead of sliding it around it lifted into the air, showing a ladder and a dark tunnel that lead into blackness.

A sewer.

Indy hated sewers.

"This way," the man said, and without any hesitation he swung into the abyss, both hands on the outside of the ladder and sliding into the darkness.

Edward hesitated only a moment after, but instead of sliding down the ladder, put his feet on the rungs and started descending quickly. Indy watched his brilliant blond hair disappear, swallowed by unfathomable darkness.

Indy found the cord that would pull the disguised hatch back down and conceal their escape before he too set foot on the the ladder. He tugged the hatch closed behind him, sealing them off from the surface world altogether.

~ * ~

Ling Yao stood in the center of the storage room. The two men had searched it but it quickly became apparent that there was no place to easily hide in the small room. There was only one real way in and out - and they had come straight in that way. The tiny Professor Elric and his companion had vanished as if they had simply never existed.

His men were opening a few boxes, but they were too small to easily hide a man. Instead of focusing his ire at the disappearance of their quarry on his men, Ling ran his hand over the wall that fed out to the alley, looking for the door that the third man had used to help Elric and Jones escape.

There was no door here.

He had only caught a glimpse of the man, and he had never seen him in person before. There were rumors about his connection to von Eiselstein's work of course, Wilhem von Eiselstein was off in his own little world and relied primarily on the generosity of the League of Shadows to fetch whatever it was he needed to create the Philosopher's Stone. Currently, he needed one or both of the Elric brothers, but the men were proving to be a lot more trouble than anticipated. "Nicholai," he murmured aloud. "How nice of you to make an appearance. You will make a great gift for our benefactor - along with the Elrics." He grinned sharply, finding the irregularity in the wall. There was no door here but the stone itself was strange, as if it had been taken apart and put back together again sloppily.

There was a loud noise, the catch of metal on stone. Ling looked behind him as one of the crates lifted into the air, exposing the disguised sewer entrance. Both of his men looked surprised, they had just been moving boxes and had not expected one to pop into the air like that. They looked down into the darkness, and then both looked to him.

"Go," Ling said.

Into the darkness they descended.

~ * ~

The ladder seemed to stretch into the depths of Hell. Edward kept his hands tight on the rusted metal bars and his eyes closed - there was no use to trying to penetrate the darkness. It was certainly a sewer he was descending into - he would recognize the stink of decaying bodily waste easily enough, he had spent far more time than he wanted to admit in sewer systems. He could hear Jones above him, but there seemed to be no end to the ladder - until his foot scraped solid ground. Edward put both feet on the surface solidly, and opened his eyes.

It was still dark, but now there was a faint light coming from the end of the tunnel, where the red-haired man stood, a lantern in hand. Edward looked up the ladder and saw Indy glance in the direction of the light, before descending the rest of the way.

"Hurry, this way!" he called, his voice echoing oddly along the sewer's walls. The red-haired man gestured with the lantern, making the shadows leap on the walls around them.
They followed him through the labyrinthine sewers under the ancient city. Edward was lost after the first few turns, but Jones kept glancing back over his shoulder at the way that they had come. "Where are you taking us?" Edward asked the strange man.

"Home," he replied.

He led Edward and Indy to a half-bricked wall, climbing delicately through it. Edward looked back at Indy, who shrugged and gestured him through, so Edward followed. He was getting a strange feeling off of this man, it was unfamiliar but not wrong. Edward stumbled over some broken bricks.

Here the rancid scent of the sewer did not reach. There were chalk etchings on some of the wall, runes in languages that Edward did not know. Then he ducked over a fallen wooden pylon and stepped into another world.

The walls were filled with books, thousands of them. Edward lifted his head in amazement as the man threw the lantern into a large fire pit that dominated the center of the room and lit the walls further. There was a grate high above them that shadows passed constantly; pedestrians going about their business with no idea of what treasures lay immediately below their feet.

Indy ducked under the pylon as well as Edward turned a circle, neck craned to stare at the bookshelves that stretched four times his own height, packed full to bursting with books of all shapes and sizes. "What is all this?" Indy asked as Edward stepped forward to inspect a bookshelf and glance at the notes pinned to one within reach. "Who are you?"

The red-haired man bowed. "Nicholai Boucherie, at your service."

Edward stared at the drawings in chalk on the wall between two of the bookshelves; the crowned mercurial serpent was among the sloppily scrawled images. The image was not rare in alchemical symbolism given its affiliation with mercury, but Edward had only seen the crowned, winged variant in the totem passed on from his master. He looked over his shoulder at Nicholai Boucherie and said, "who are you really?"

"Nicholai Boucherie," he said evenly. Edward stared at him, before glancing back to the drawings curiously. "I think the more pertinent question though is who are you, my young alchemist."

"You keep calling me that," Edward said. "How do you know-"

"Because I know all those who have touched the lapis philosophorum." Nicholai cocked his head and studied Edward curiously. "But you are terribly young to be counted among the Masters, child."

Edward's eyebrow twitched and Indy coughed. "I'm not a child."

Nicholai took two large steps toward Edward, invading his personal space and staring directly into his face. Edward jerked back and hit the bookshelf and had no where else to go as the other man studied him. Then Nicholai nodded his head sharply.

"So why are the League of Shadows after you?" Indy asked, amused at Edward's discomfort. Nicholai turned his head to look at Indy and then retreated, allowing Edward breathing room again. Indy had stepped to a bookshelf as well and was scanning the titles curiously.

"Because the vagabonds have taken my wife."

Indy stopped and looked at Nicholai. "You have a wife? You don't live here, do you?"

"Of course not, these are temporary lodgings." Nicholai seemed insulted that Indy would even insinuate such a thing. "I ... am between residences, you must understand."

"Sure," Indy muttered. "Between residences."

Nicholai sighed and stepped away from Edward, toward the center of the room and the roaring fire. The way the shadows moved and danced around made him look infinitesimally old and remarkably young all at once. "You must understand, professor," Nicholai said slowly. "The search for the Great Work has consumed many. Our young friend here can certainly agree with that sentiment. Right now there is a power that will stop at nothing to obtain the sorcerer's stone, involving anyone who might have a passing knowledge. They took my wife in an effort to get to me." He looked up, at the grate far above their heads.

Edward stepped forward. "Do you know who is behind this?"

"A German." Nicholai looked at him. "I know as much as that. The League is wily, and their assassin is very thorough. I have not been able to get close to him, whoever he is he has escaped my notice before now." Nicholai gestured at the books all around him. "I fear I have wasted most of my life in study, I had never once imagined that we would be attacked. Driven from the surface world into hiding, all of this ruckus is beyond the scope of my abilities. It is quite fortunate I ran into the pair of you, for your assistance will be much appreciated."

"Look," Indy said. "I'm just here to find out about the League of Shadows, I don't care about your game with a magical glowing fairy tale rock or whatever."

"Of course not, professor. You prefer the realm of the real to that of the fantastic. I don't ask your belief, just in your aid."

Edward put his hands on his hips. "Who are you?"

Nicholai smiled at him. "Why, alchemist, I am naught but a humble scrivener."

~ * ~

"And perhaps if you had remained but a humble scrivener, you would not be in the trouble you are now," Ling said from the entrance to the room. He stepped delicately over some of the debris that lined the entrance, his two dark-haired goons behind him. "Such an inventive place to hide, Nicholai of Boucherie."

Edward glanced across the room to Indy, who was already in motion. Indy grabbed an entire shelf of books and shoved, knocking over priceless manuscripts and worthless papers both as he moved to block Ling's entrance into the room. Ling moved faster than Indy, kicking him in the face so hard he saw stars and staggered to the side, back toward the goons. "You'll forgive me, professor," Ling addressed Edward. "Your services may not yet be required."

Before Ling could cross the room to where Nicholai stood, stunned, Edward was in motion. He might no longer have the arm blade at his disposal, but he was no slouch when he had a weapon made of pure, heavy steel in his right arm. He lunged forward, reaching deep into the flames and ignoring the heat that licked at his face as he pulled out a burning log and flung it at the startled assassin. Ling leaped back but the tail of his long coat was caught by the fire, consuming the dry material quickly.

"Get out of here," Edward yelled at Nicholai. Spurred into action by Edward's words Nicholai ran past them both. Ling tore his burning jacket off and flung it at Edward, intent on the red-haired man but Edward deflected the burning material with his automail arm and tackled Ling, catching him low and taking him to his knees.

Indy grunted in pain as the first goon punched him in the stomach - the second had him by his arms. He had been outnumbered from the start and there was little chance for him to move. He kicked feebly at the first man, trying to wrench his arms free and keep his gorge from rising when Nicholai darted between them with a polite "Excusez-moi!"

Both the two men who had Indy in their clutches, and Indy himself watched Nicholai disappear down the entrance-way in a hurry, before exchanging looks of disbelief. Then Indy slammed his head back into the mook's jaw who was holding him, elbows flung back into his solar plexus enough to make the man stagger. The one who had been punching him nearly blackened his eye, the blow glancing off of his jaw instead.

"Seguire, scemi!" Ling yelled, followed by a string of what were likely expletives in his native tongue as Edward found skin and bit it. Ling was trying his damnedest to get a hold of the wily blond man but Edward would not hold still long enough for Ling to get a good grip on him. Finally, the Chinese assassin pulled a long dagger from his pants leg and slammed it down over Edward's arm, pinning his arm, sleeve and all to the floor.

Unexpectedly, perhaps, Edward did not even screech in pain, yanking the weapon from his sleeve and, in the movement, dragging the blade against the naked, now-exposed metal of his right forearm. "Nope," Edward said, his grin all teeth.

One of Ling's men had taken his orders and was running after Nicholai. Indy freed his trademark weapon - a bull whip - from under his short coat and snapped it. However, before he could snap the whip and hopefully ensnare the other man, his arm was caught by the not-yet unconscious man he had head-butted.

Half-turned and off of his balance, Indy punched the man in his face, three times in rapid succession with a left hook that left his eyes crossed as he fell to his knees, and then backwards, this time definitely out cold. However, the moment was lost and the other man had made it to the end of the tunnel and out of range. Indy swore, coiled his rip and ran after them both.

"This no longer concerns you!" Ling said, struggling to get free from Edward's grip. "You could go home and be free of this-"

"You involved me!" Edward responded.

"Idiot, you have no idea who you're dealing with-" Ling said, and then his eyes widened in almost comic surprise as Edward's right hand bid him a quick good night.

"No, I don't," Edward said, nudging Ling's unconscious body with his foot. "But I am going to find that out." Edward cast a quick look around the room, grabbing a small, dark-covered book off of one of the shelves and tucking it into the inner pocket of his long coat as he started down the tunnel after Nicholai and Indy.

Edward hesitated at the end of the tunnel, looking left and right. He had no idea which way that they went, but he heard a grate scraping and ran to the first ladder that he saw. He put his hands on the rungs and started climbing.

To his surprise, the grate slid completely aside before he got to the top of the ladder and a set of hands shot through and grabbed him by the back of the coat. Edward's initial reaction was to fight and twist away but the surprisingly strong hands yanked him through the grate and up into the world above again. Edward blinked at Nicholai as he dusted Edward's coat off. "Nick?" He looked around. "Where's Indy?"

"Probably still chasing that other fellow," Nicholai said. "Come on now, while that vile miscreant is lying unconscious now is the time to check out the blackguard's base of operations. I followed them once, you know," he added, pulling Edward to his feet and then dragging him by his one intact sleeve forward. "Perhaps we shall find a clue as to the location of my missing wife!"

Edward was dragged along at a run. "We should find Indy," he said, as Nicholai tugged him along.

"He will find us, I have every faith in the good professor," Nicholai said, sounding far too cheery for someone who had the League of Shadows on his tail. Edward glanced back over his shoulder in consternation, but he was already completely lost.

What had happened to Indy?