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they’d had their supper only fifteen minutes before,’ the servant blurted out.
‘Perhaps have six other levels to look down on and the Eighth Level to aspire to? You needed other wizards to hate and despise.
Whereas every alchemist was an alchemist alone, working in darkened rooms or hidden cellars and endlessly searching for the big casino – the Philosopher’s Stone, the Elixir of Life. They tended to be thin, pink-eyed men, with beards that weren’t really beards but more like groups of individual whatever they were doing makes people hungry,’ said the Patrician. ‘Yes, and the kitchen was all shut up for the night and I had to go and buy a tray of hot sausages in buns from Throat Dibbler.’ ‘Indeed.’ The Patrician looked down at the paperwork on his desk. ‘Thank you. You may go.’ ‘You know what, lordship? They liked them. They actually liked them!’ That the Alchemists had a Guild at all was remarkable. Wizards were just as unco-operative, but they also were by nature hierarchical and competitive. They needed organization. What was the good of being a wizard of the Seventh Level if you didn’t