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“So, how is the young apprentice?”
Christopher looked up from his worktable. Jars of ingredients that Ashcombe did not know the names of were splayed out in front of him. Master Kirby was standing beside him, testing him on the various ingredients in his shop.
“He is doing well,” Master Kirby said. “I’m trying to get a feel for his knowledge, to know if there is anything left to teach him before he is ready to become a journeyman.”
Ashcombe nodded. “Is there anything left for him to know?”
“A few, but Master Benedict has taught him well, and he has a naturally inquisitive mind and a knack for problem-solving. I can see why His Majesty has chosen for Christopher to be apprenticed to Walsingham as well. He would serve his majesty well as both.”
“Indeed he would,” Ashcombe said, then he turned to Christopher. “And you, how are you finding everything?”
“Master Kirby is a gracious Master,” Christopher said. “Nothing like Master Benedict, of course, but no one is like Master Benedict. I am happy as I am.”
Master Kirby coughed. “Yes, well. I am lucky Christopher is a good student. Even if he does have a penchant for trouble.”
Ashcombe looked amused, “Has he caused any explosions today?”
Christopher blushed. “I do not do that as often as you think,” He muttered.
Kirby laughed. “None, So far.”
Christopher rolled his eyes.
“Well, keep him away from the gun powder. I don’t need him getting any more ideas of building cannons and destroying property. Not without supervision, anyway.”
“My weapons are my pistols," Christopher argued. "Gun powder is necessary. Besides, you know I know how to make gun powder."
“So, Kirby can keep you away from the components. Until someone who knows how to handle gun powder is with you. ”
“Hard to do when those ingredients are used in other remedies,” Christopher said. “That I’ll hopefully be helping him with,” Christopher muttered the last part so softly; Ashcombe was certain he was not supposed to hear it. It was easy to forget that being a spy was not Christopher's main ambition, despite how suited he was for the job.
Still, he could not give Christopher a reason to think that he could not do what he did to His Majesty's carriage happen in the palace. Ashcombe smiled in a way that he knew had scared others before and bent down so low that he was uncomfortably close to his face. “I find out that you have blown up something else that belongs to His Majesty, and I will take away your mount; force you to commute to Whitehall from your shop. Every. Single. Day . ”
Christopher swallowed and nodded quickly. “Y-yes, My Lord.”
Ashcombe straightened, “Good,” he said, “Now. Find me after you have finished you're finished. I want to see your canon. Also, bring your pistols; we should practice using them if they are to be your weapon.
For a moment, Christopher just stared at him in amazement. Then a smile spread across his face. “Yes, Lord Ashcombe!” he exclaimed.